Pressure
by A'isha Ishtar
Summary: Scary has never really been Melanie's thing. Her brother drags her to Crystal Lake and she hears the stories. When the mysterious killer kidnaps her and she realizes he only wants to keep her safe, she doesn't know how to feel. Jason/OC please be kind!
1. Still of the Lake

Melanie had to admit, camping trips really weren't her scene. She didn't like spending a lot of time with other people; she would rather have been alone in her own room, listening to her Walkman and reading romance novels. Or Bram Stoker. Yeah, _Dracula_ was just as good as romance novels. She liked the whole darkness and morbidity of vampires... creatures of the night. However, scary campfire stories weren't her thing, either. She didn't like scaring herself silly, because then she usually couldn't sleep. But she really couldn't do anything about it now.

"Cheer up, sis." Her older brother, Sam, nudged her with his shoulder, giving her a grin. He was in college, while she was just fresh out of high school. This was her first summer as a high-school graduate; she'd just finished all her classes and received her diploma. "This is gonna be a great trip!"

"Yeah? If it's gonna be a great trip, then why in the hell did you bring _her_?" Melanie said under her breath, speaking only to him. The "her" she was referring to was the woman driving, Sam's girlfriend Kris - short for Kristina, but not that it really mattered to Melanie. She thought the girl was evil. She was manipulative, spoiled, and a floozy wrapped up into one - not to mention the fact that she was almost ten years older than Sam. She thought she owned everything and everybody. She wasn't afraid to hit, kick, or bite, and she was a screamer. And Melanie absolutely _hated_ her. The reason for that was that Kris hated Melanie - she thought Sam paid too much attention to and spent too much time with her and not enough with Kris.

"Now you stop that." Sam made his point not by slapping Melanie on the shoulder like a normal boy would do, but by messing up her hair. "Kris is a great girl, and you'd know that if you tried spending a little more time with her. She always says how she'd like to do more stuff with you. She _likes_ you."

"No she doesn't," Melanie fired back, still keeping the conversation quiet so that Kris didn't hear. It'd just be one more reason for the whore to hate her, and an excuse. "She's a controlling bitch. She bosses everyone around and you let her. The only reason she's with you is because obviously you have a big one. Don't think she hasn't bragged to me about it. 'Oh, my boyfriend has a huge dick and _you_ don't even have a boyfriend, small or not!' She hates me."

"Look." Sam gave Melanie a one-armed hug, planting a kiss on the top of her head and giving her another grin. "This trip is going to be a great experience - for all of us. It'll give you and Kris a chance to bond. Maybe you'll find out that you're not so different."

Melanie rolled her green eyes. "And it'll give _you_ and Kris a chance to have sex without Mom and Dad finding out."

"They're not even home half the time, so that doesn't matter. How the hell do you even know, anyway?"

"Whenever you do it, she screams. Really, _really_ loud. Why can't you just see what a bitch she is and break up with her already?"

"Because she's _not_ a bitch. She's really sweet. Please promise me you'll try to get to know her a little better."

"I'll try, but I can't promise you I'll like her after the summer's over."

"And we already went over _that_. I told you, we're only staying a month and that isn't the whole summer."

"It's thirty days in _hell_. Thirty days in hell is a summer, sir."

"Camp Crystal Lake is not hell, Melanie. It's a fun happy-go-lucky, gung-ho, let's-make-friends-round-the-campfire-"

"That's hell."

"We're heeeeere!" Kris called out in her fake-happy voice, slowing down dramatically. Melanie almost pitched forward with the sudden, drastic change in speed. "Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake, everybody! Oh, this is gonna be _soooooooo_ much fun!"

Melanie faked a laughed. "Ha-ha... no it's not, you fucking bitch."

* * *

He watched her because she seemed... miserable. It seemed like she was stuck here and she didn't want to be here.

She had dark blonde hair that almost crossed the line over into brown but somehow stayed blonde - straight, falling down to her hips. It was let loose, and she wore hoop earrings, which he found complemented her hair. The style was nice when you looked at her from the front, the silver hoops sparkling from deep in her hair yet still visible. She wore a red hat on her head, and it looked like a standard cap; like one you might find on a counselor. But usually counselor's caps were white, so she wasn't one. She was dressed very casually, in just a black tank top shirt and jean shorts.

She would laugh or smile when the other blonde, the boy, put his arm around her or nudged her. But she would glare or make a face when the other girl, the brunette, talked to her or touched her. He had first thought the blonde boy was what would be called the blonde girl's boyfriend, but then the blonde boy kissed the brunette, so he thought that maybe the blonde girl and the blonde boy were just friends, or maybe relatives. He wasn't sure yet.

He only watched her because she seemed to hate it here, and he wasn't sure how that was possible.

The blonde boy and the other girl walked with the blonde girl up to a cabin, and left the blonde girl there. The blonde girl smiled and waved as the boy and the other girl left, with the boy's arm around the other girl's waist. The blonde girl walked into the cabin with two bags, and he watched her closely to see if she was going to do something bad.

She walked inside, and placed her bags on the floor. The first thing she did after this was sit down on the bed, put her hands over her face, and begin to cry. She sobbed and fell back on the bed. "I wanna go home! I can't believe I have to stay here with that controlling ho for an entire month! I hate this!" She took her hands away from her face and flung them out on the bed, her chest still heaving as she cried.

He felt sorry for her. He could imagine how it was to be trapped somewhere you didn't want to be, with no way out. To be around someone you didn't like for a long time, it was torture. He almost asked what he could do to help her, but instead he kept his mouth shut as always, and moved away from the window of the cabin to sit down on the ground.

**_She's not bad, Jason,_** he heard his mother say to him. **_She's a good girl. It's those other two that are bad. That other girl smokes, and the boy drinks more than he should. Do you know what they're planning on doing when the good girl falls asleep?_**

He cocked his head to the side, asking for an answer.

**_They're going to have sex while she's sleeping. I think she knows it too. They always do when they think the good girl isn't paying attention. But she is. She knows._**

That made him mad. A good girl shouldn't have to be around bad people having sex, especially when they thought she was ignorant to what they were doing. They would do it a lot, wouldn't they? He had to do something about that.

**_Be a good boy, Jason. I heard the bad boy and the bad girl talking. They're going to make the good girl watch a scary movie with them, and then they're going to tell her to go to bed so they can have sex. While she's walking back from their cabin, Mother wants you to go up behind the good girl and bring her back to our house to protect her._**

He blinked a few times behind his hockey mask, wanting to know what he should do with the bad people.

**_Oh, you know what to do with them, don't you, Jason? Once the good girl is safe in our house, you need to go get rid of them._**

He nodded, silently agreeing. After this, his mother laughed, said, **_That's my good boy_,** and stopped talking for now.

He sat back up and peeked into the good girl's cabin again. She was sitting up now, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. A few tears still trickled down her cheeks, and her face was flushed pink from the crying. She took her red hat off and gathered her hair, tying it back into a low ponytail. It only went to her waist like that, but it still looked nice.

Now he knew what he could do to help her.

**OK, um... hi there? I'm new to this fandom/franchise and I'd appreciate it if people didn't yell at me, criticize Melanie or how I characterized Jason or anything like that...**

**OK, when I say this next sentence, I do NOT want any screaming, hitting, or going "OMG SRSLY FOR REALS?"**

**... I have never seen any of the Friday the 13th movies.**

***protects herself from flying machetes and hockey masks***

**OK THAT'S ENOUGH! ToT**

**Ahem, now... yeah, I've never seen a full movie. I saw the end of one of them once, but scary movies usually don't sit well with me. Nevertheless I am IN LURV with Jason's character. I've read several other fics involving a concept like this so I could try and get him right. I plan on watching some of the movies, but since my mom doesn't like them I'm going to have to beg and suck up BIG TIME to get her to watch them with me. If I watched them alone I wouldn't last five minutes.**

**... No yelling? Does Jason seem OOC at all? If so, please tell me and give me some suggestions! ... But do it in a nice way please?**

**I LOVE YOU ALL AND I HOPE I DON'T GET TOTALLY FLAMED FOR THIS! MORE COMING SOON IF YOU LIKED IT!**

**~Ai-chan ^^**


	2. Science Fiction Double Feature

Once Melanie had gotten over her crying episode, she was able to calm down just a little bit. She was done freaking out and throwing a tantrum like a little kid. She was a high-school graduate now, and she had to handle things more maturely. Yes, she was stuck here with her alcoholic brother and his bitch of a girlfriend. Yes, it was going to be a month before she was back in civilization and out of this hellhole.

But she wasn't going to let that ruin her mood. She was trying to be happier, and she wasn't going to let being stuck here wreck it. Nope; she had resolved before they even got here to stay as positive as she had been for a few months now, after she came out of that depression she'd been in. She was _not_ going to let Sam and that bitch Kris ruin all the effort she'd put into never being depressed again. It was going to be hard, living _here_ for a month... but she was going to do it if it _killed_ her.

She thought she heard something outside of her cabin, but when she got up to investigate and looked out the window, she saw nothing. The sound of someone running, their feet crunching on leaves and twigs, came to her ears, but she just shook her head. "I'm hearing things." She chuckled as she began to unpack, leaving the window open. "The voices are coming back!" She laughed, brushing her hair back and starting to take clothes out of her bags. "Oh, I'm such an idiot..."

"Mel. Mel. Hey, Mel, get your ass up!"

Melanie jolted awake, instantly sitting up on the bed. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes. She couldn't remember what had happened... oh wait. "I _seriously_ fell asleep unpacking? Damn... I'm lame..."

She stood up and winced at the pain in her ears. She hadn't taken those stupid hoops out. "Ow... hurts like a bitch, hurts like a _bitch_..." She walked over to the door and opened it, revealing... "Sammeh! Why you knockin' on my door and yellin' at me to get my damn ass up?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay... never said 'damn'."

"You were thinkin' it, weren't ya?"

"Um, okay..." He shook his head. "Anyway, I've been banging on your door and calling your name for, like, five minutes."

Melanie raised an eyebrow. "Uhh... why?"

"Movie time."

"Movie time? Seriously?" She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to her other foot. "What if I don't wanna watch a movie?"

"Um... you don't have a choice?"

"Was that a question or a statement?" she grinned at him.

He put his hands on his hips and gave her a stern look. "You get your ass down to the theater area, we're watching a movie and you're gonna _like it_!"

She saluted comically, clicking her heels. "Yessir, captain my captain!"

"That's what I like to hear!"

Melanie made a face, instantly dropping the act. "Wait a second. By 'we', please tell me you mean..."

"You, me, and Kris."

"Damn it!" Melanie walked back inside her cabin and kicked at the bed, almost expecting it to fall apart. "I don't understand _why_ you have to include that whore in everything we do! Why is it never just me and you anymore? Why is it always 'Oh, I'm doing something with you, but by the way Kris is tagging along, hope you don't mind'? I _always_ mind, Sam! It's not fair!"

Sam came into the cabin and hugged her lightly. "Look, Mel..." He sighed, shaking his head. "I wish I could be with you more. But the fact is, you still have some growing up to do. A lot of the things I do, you can't. That's why whenever I have something with Kris that you are legally allowed to do, I try to include you. You _have_ the choice to say no, but I try." He tousled her hair, walking back over to the door. "Now come on. It'll be fun. We picked a great movie."

Melanie sighed, but walked over to him. "Fine. I'll do it. But just remember, I'm not doing it for her - I'm doing it for _you_."

Sam put his arm around her and began walking her down to the theater slash viewing area. "That's my girl." He brushed his bangs back. "Hey, did you know there's supposed to be a killer here?"

Melanie rolled her eyes. "Are you serious? I'm not six anymore, that stuff doesn't scare me."

"No, really, Mel. His name's Jason. He killed a buncha people 'cause they were apparently bad."

"Oh really? What kinda 'bad' stuff did they do to make him kill them?"

"Um, well... huh. Supposedly, he thinks people are bad if they drink, smoke, do drugs, or have sex." Sam snorted, shaking his head and laughing. "He sounds like a friggin' prude."

"Maybe he's upset because it's happening in his home. If he's _here_, this place would be his home, right? I wouldn't want people drinking, getting stoned, lighting up, or banging each other in _my_ house. What makes you think he'd like that in his?"

Sam laughed again. "Hey, it's just a story. Just tryin' to scare you, is all. I think he's long gone by now. It's been, like, what - fifty years, I wanna say, since all that happened. Trust me, the guy is _nowhere_ near this place."

* * *

He watched them all, waiting for the right time to take the good girl. He sat quietly near the viewing forum of the camp, watching as the bad girl struggled to set up the film projector. Once she got it working and the light and shadows could cast onto the sheet in the front, the bad boy slid a thin, shiny disk inside a strange machine that was connected to the projector. The good girl snorted at the bad girl, commenting, "That DVD's so scratched up - I don't think it'll play, Kris." The bad girl just scoffed, rolled her eyes, and pressed a button on the strange machine.

He decided that if he had to wait until the movie was over and the good girl was walking back to her cabin, he might as well watch the movie. Sitting in the bushes just looking at bad people made him angry, even if there was one good person. If he kept his mind and eyes on something else, maybe it would keep him calm. If he got mad, there was a chance he might hurt the good girl. He couldn't risk that. If he hurt the good girl, then he would be a bad boy, and he didn't want to be a bad boy.

It seemed that the movie was titled "The Rocky Horror Picture Show". The images poured off the screen in full, bursting color, the hues popping out and fascinating him to no end. He'd never known there was such a thing as a movie in color! At the beginning, a pair of lips came up and sang a song. He allowed the melody to creep into his ears, closing his eyes and listening to the mellow, perfectly pitched voice. It sounded like the kind of style one would hear in an old suspense movie, where the love interest for the hard-boiled detective was just walking into his office and sparking his interest.

As the movie dragged on, he almost felt himself nodding off to sleep. He thought Mother said this was supposed to be a _scary_ movie. He didn't find it very scary at all, except for the fact that a man deliberately dressed like a woman... and actually pulled it off. He was also disgusted at the sex scenes, which involved that man-lady first talking the woman into having sex with him, and then doing the same thing to the man, who was supposed to marry the woman later. He also had to look away during the part when the woman was singing "Touch-a, touch-a, touch-a, _touch me_!" over and over, because that was when the blonde creation kept putting his hands all over the woman's body, particularly her chest. That thoroughly repulsed him, and if he'd eaten anything, he was sure it would have been lost by then.

He did have to give a low chuckle, though, when they were singing and they were all angry and everybody kept calling the man-lady a hot dog.

Finally it was all over. The bad girl was fake-laughing, hanging onto the bad boy's arm. The bad boy was smiling, and his hand ventured to the bad girl's backside. The good girl was slumped down in her seat, her cap gone and her hair still tied back. She looked disgusted by the two bad people as well, and looked away. At last she just stood up, flicked the bad boy on the back of the head and laughed, saying she was going to go to bed. The bad boy nodded, saying he and the bad girl were going to go back to their cabin too. The good girl shook her head and left the viewing area. The bad boy called out after her, laughing, "Don't let ole Hockey Mask get ya! He'll kill ya! _Just sayin'_!" **(1)**

He leapt up, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Now was his chance! He could take the good girl back home, where she would be safe; and after that, he could get rid of the bad people and they wouldn't be able to hurt her anymore. He could protect her for always, and he'd be a good boy.

He followed her silently, slipping through the trees and bushes, making sure she didn't see him. She'd see him as soon as he'd finished his job. She could see her; she was walking back to the cabin she'd been in earlier. She put her arms around herself and shivered, muttering that it was freezing at night.

He came up behind her, walking as lightly as he could. How could he take her to his home without frightening her? He didn't want to scare her; he didn't like scaring good people. He was actually a little surprised that she didn't hear him breathing or his footsteps. She seemed perceptive, so he wondered if maybe she just wasn't paying attention. Maybe she was tired and didn't feel like paying attention.

Finally, he just went up right behind her, shot his arms out, and grabbed her around the waist. She gasped and began to struggle against him, but he held her tighter. He grasped her as tightly as he could, his arm pressing into her stomach. Maybe she was struggling because it was painful, but he couldn't let go or she might try to run away from him. If she ran away he'd never get her back home and she'd just end up getting hurt by the bad people again. So he just gripped tighter around her middle, trying to get her to at least walk with him so he didn't have to schlep her the whole way.

It was at this time that she began to scream.

**(1) - OMG inside joke. I ran around all day yesterday saying that to my friends. I'd go up to them and I'd be all like "Jason's gonna get you! **_**JUST SAYIN**_**'!" And they would just look at me like I was INSANE.**

**Sorry for all the Rocky Horror stuff, if you don't know what it is. I just figured it would be the perfect movie for them to watch up there. Comedic horror, oh yesh... if you've never watched it, I recommend it but it's rated R for swearing and sexual content so... ^^; If you're not AT LEAST fourteen, I would just forget about it. If you're older than fourteen but younger than eighteen, please ask your parents before watching. XD My mom's rule is that I'm not allowed to watch anything R-rated unless she's watching it with me, so... maybe try that.**

**ANYWAY GOOD NEWS. My friend has some of the Friday the 13th movies, and he's going to let me borrow them! And I talked my mom (and possibly her friend who loves Friday the 13th) into watching them with me! Wheeeeeeeee! Oh Jason~ 3 XD**

**... Bye bye! ^^**


	3. Old Hockey Mask

Melanie was terrified beyond all reason when she felt somebody grab her. At first she thought it was Sam trying to scare her, but then she realized that Sam wasn't this strong. Besides, if she tried to get away from him, he would let go of her; he wouldn't try to restrain her even further by tightening his arms. She immediately thought of the story that Sam told her, but for the life of her she couldn't remember the guy's name, except that Sam called him old Hockey Mask. What the hell did that mean?

She couldn't get away, she knew she couldn't. Whoever had her, be it the psycho killer or not, they was too strong. She wouldn't be able to get away even if she tried her hardest. Her best bet was kicking the guy in the face, and it wasn't guaranteed that she would even be able to land a hit since she sucked at aiming. So she did the only thing any sensible person would do in her position.

She screamed.

She screamed once, then she heard the person groan and a gloved hand was thrown over her mouth. The guy hissed and began to drag her, even with her feet making marks in the dirt where her heels were dug in. She tried to scream again, but this only served to make him press his hand harder against her lips, his arm grinding into her stomach and making her nauseous. She jumped up and kicked a few times, hoping to slow him down and possibly make him let her go. "Let me go!" she tried to yell, but since he was covering her mouth it came out more like "Mm mmp mmmf!"

The man made a noise and picked her up. He held her up in the air around her waist, with her legs kicking and everything, and walked backward; he'd also made the mistake of taking his hand off her mouth. She then screamed again, at which point he resumed dragging her, placing his hand back over her mouth.

Melanie tried to elbow him or punch him or something, but she was too scared to land a good hit. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, soaking into his glove. Eventually she stopped struggling, and just let him basically carry her. She refused to walk, but she wasn't going to try and stop him. _He could be planning on letting me live. If I fight, he might just rethink that. I better just let him do what he wants..._

Finally he stopped at a cabin - not hers, or the one that Sam and Kris were sharing. She heard him kick the door open, and he proceeded to drag her inside. She attempted to cry out again when he brought her up a flight of stairs, her feet bumping every step. Remaining unsympathetic to her discomfort, he brought her into another room and before she knew what was happening she'd been flung down onto a bed. He was still holding his hand over her mouth, but he'd let go of her waist to reach for something.

A paper was held in front of her face. In shaky but carefully penned handwriting (sort of like a kid's), it read: 'If I take my hand off your mouth now, will you scream?'

She swallowed, then came to the conclusion that the safe thing to do was not scream. If she screamed, he might decide to kill her. She shook her head violently, making her earrings sparkle.

Slowly, he pulled his hand away. He kept it close for a second, as if he expected her to go back on her word. After a moment he drew it back, and tapped her. It was almost like he was telling her she could turn around now.

So she did. She took a few deep breaths and gradually turned to face her kidnapper.

Instead of his face, she saw a hockey mask. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans with a jacket over it. A sheathed machete was secured in one of his belt loops, and she felt more than lucky that he hadn't chosen to use it on her - at least, not right now. Her hands trembled as she just stared at him, and she gulped before taking a few breaths. She lifted her hand, and pointed one finger at him, saying the only positive thing that came to her mind. "I like your mask. White is my favorite color."

He didn't say anything, but he turned his face away from her - almost as if he were looking away so he couldn't see her. He picked up his notepad and a pen that lay on top of it and wrote again, then held it up. It was that same wobbly but deliberate child-like penmanship. 'I'll be back soon. Don't leave or you'll be bad, then I'll have to kill you.'

She nodded, twisting her hands. "O-Okay. I won't leave."

He nodded back, then put the pad and pen down. After standing up, he adjusted his mask, as if making sure none of his face was showing, and pulled out his machete. He took the lid off, and the knife gleamed a sinister silver against the dim light in the room. It was sharp, Melanie could see. She was hoping he wouldn't use it right now, on her. But if he wasn't, what was he going to do with it? Who was he going to kill? There was nobody here besides her, Sam, and Kris...

She stood up, taking a step toward him as he made for the door. "Where are you going?"

He didn't answer her. He just looked at her from behind that mask, turned away, and walked out of the room without another sound.

She blinked a few times, then sat back down on the bed. "Oh, God..." More tears escaped her eyes. "Is this really happening?"

**OK... just to clarify, anything that's written like this: 'Blah blah blah blah-blah...' is Jason communicating by writing on his little pad. My brother suggested this idea so that Melanie would know what Jason was trying to tell her **_**some**_** of the time. Sometimes he'll just look at her and not say/write anything, like he would to anybody else. XD**

**I told my friend (the one with the movies) that I was writing a Jason love story and he was all like "UGH! Let me guess, you have him talking,right?" And I was like "Uh... no. No, he's still silent." And he was like "Oh good, I thought you'd write one of those stories where he TALKS." I can tell he doesn't like things that characterize wrong... so I'm trying to keep it all knock-knock good-good. :D**

**Bye bye! ^^**


	4. Dead of Night

He left the good girl with a warning, and he was sure she wouldn't disobey him. If she did, she'd be bad; a good person shouldn't want to be bad, should they? No... she'd stay.

Even so, he decided a few precautions wouldn't hurt. After all, suppose she got an impulse to be bad? Everyone got an urge to do something bad from time to time, even good people. The only difference was that bad people acted on those urges, while good people resisted them. Sure, good people like this girl might try to be bad, but they'd never really go through with it.

He didn't close or lock the door in his room where he left her. If she wanted to wander about, he didn't mind that. It really wasn't doing any actual harm if she wanted to explore his house. But he did lock the front and back doors shut, as well as he bolted all of the downstairs windows. The upstairs windows didn't matter, because they didn't open anymore. The locks on those windows were rusted and didn't turn to open, so she couldn't climb out upstairs. After he locked all the openings downstairs shut, he left the house, remembering to lock the door after he left.

He knew where the bad boy and the bad girl were. Their cabin was on the same side of the lake as the good girl's, but it was a few cabins down from hers - probably they had planned it that way so they could have sex whenever they wanted and thought the good girl didn't know about it. They were both idiots; the good girl knew what they were doing even if she couldn't hear them. But she could hear them anyway; he knew she could.

Hell, _he_ could hear them now. They were impossibly loud within their heat of passion, oblivious to everything else and thinking nobody cared. The bad boy was moaning with pleasure, and the bad girl was screaming in ecstasy.

He nearly brought his hands to his ears and pounded his head against the cabin he stood by. Smashing his head in would be a better alternative to listening to _this_. It was disgusting, the way they didn't even have the decency to do it quietly. They had to be loud about it and disturb everybody else.

He smirked behind his mask, running his thumb over the smooth, sharp blade of his machete. They didn't think anybody else besides the good girl was at this camp, but they were wrong. Dead wrong. And soon they'd be just dead.

He raced forward to their cabin and listened to where the sounds were coming from. The bad girl was squealing happily, with shouts of "More! More! Faster!" and the bad boy was shouting his compliance with her requests. It was coming from upstairs, from the closed window on the second story. He felt rage suddenly build up inside him, boiling up into his chest. If they were loud enough to be heard through an _open_ window, fine. But if they were so loud as to be heard through a _closed_ window, that was a different story. Just like with that movie, he would have thrown up had there been anything in his stomach.

He entered through the back door. He walked softly and carefully, being mindful of the creaking stairs. They wouldn't be able to hear him anyway, over all the noise they were making with their sick activities.

He slowly opened the door to the bedroom, and that was where he found them. They weren't even trying to cover themselves, just going at it. That was just like bad people.

He raised his knife, and rushed forward to kill the bad boy and the bad girl.

* * *

Melanie lie there on the bed for a few minutes. She was worried and scared, of course, but all worrying and fear would do was get her sick. So she tried to push all that worry out of her mind. Once she did, however, she was magnificently bored. There wasn't anything to do while she was locked up in here.

She amused herself by looking around the room to see what it was like. It looked like a little kid's room. Was this really the guy's room? It looked like a child lived here. There were toys strewn across the room, like teddy bears and ducks and things like that. A lamp which had a stand of wooden letters that spelled out "ABC" stood atop the dresser. When she got up and opened the top drawer of the dresser, she found clothes that looked like they belonged to a little boy. She looked up into the mirror, and saw that she was a mess. Her earrings were still in, and she didn't feel like taking them out even though they hurt a little. Her hair was tangled in its ponytail, so she fixed it.

As she retied her hair, she looked at the photos that were plastered to the mirror. One of them was a pretty blonde woman who couldn't have possibly been any older than Melanie herself, and she was holding a slighty deformed baby. The baby clung tightly to her, and its chubby cheeks were aglow with pink, and it looked like it was laughing. The woman was smiling happily, looking at the infant in her arms like a mother would to her baby. Melanie pulled this one down and looked at the back to see if there was a name. This couldn't possibly be the killer as a child, could it? Sure enough, there was spidery writing on the back, like you would expect a grandmother's handwriting to be. It just had one name, and read, _Pamela with my grandson_. Maybe it was him. Maybe Pamela was his mother, and whoever had written on the photo was his grandmother or grandfather. She put the picture back exactly where she had found it, being careful not to touch the front.

There were a few more pictures up on the mirror, of that same little boy (she knew it was the same one because of the deformity, how it reshaped his head and eyes), but none of the others had any writing on the back. In almost every picture he was smiling. He looked so happy, so carefree, like a child should.

Melanie found herself feeling almost sad as she looked at these pictures. Such a sweet kid... and he'd turned into the Crystal Lake killer? How had something like that happened? What had taken place that turned him from a kind, happy little boy into a vindictive murderer? It didn't make any sense...

She stepped over the toys and clothes that were scattered on the wooden floor, and made her way to the exit/entrance. "The toys are all over the place," she murmured as she stepped out of the room. "Be careful, they're all over the place..." She glanced down the steps to see if the killer had returned, but he wasn't home yet. She shivered as she walked down the hallway. Every little noise had her jumping, and she usually wasn't like this.

She wanted to see what the rest of the house looked like; that was how bored she was, she was willing to take a self-guided tour of a murderer's home. She crept down the hallway, fearing that any minute he would come back and find her snooping around, and she'd be killed.

She came to a door that had a sign on it. The sign read _Mother_, and it was decorated with roses and hearts. She raised an eyebrow, a little confused. The way those pictures looked, it seemed as if Pamela was dead... but was she still alive here? If she was, maybe she could help Melanie get out of here, or talk some sense into her son or _something_.

She grasped the door knob, took a few breaths, opened the door, and walked inside.

When she saw what was inside the room, she staggered back and almost fell on her ass. Sitting there, right when she walked in, was a pedestal. On top of the pedestal was a glass case, and inside the glass case... was a woman's head. It bore a striking resemblance to the woman in the photo who was holding the baby, but looked a little older. It looked like what Pamela would have looked like if there had been a picture of her a few years after the picture with the baby was taken.

Melanie could only stare at the head in horror. It was looking _right at her_, eyes and mouth wide open like she'd been frozen while she was yelling. Her heart thumped in her chest as she looked at Pamela's decapitated head. What kind of a sick person would do this kind of thing, keeping their mom's detached head around? It was so gross, she felt like she was going to be sick.

The killer's mother was dead, and he was keeping her head in the house.

Melanie stared at it for two more seconds, then just screamed bloody murder (which probably wasn't far from the truth). She scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room, slamming the door shut. She flew down the stairs and tripped on the last one. She got back up and reached the front door. She twisted the door knob several times, but it refused to budge. He'd locked the front door to prevent her from escaping. Damn it...

She spun around and ran for the back door through the kitchen, which looked like it'd hardly ever been used. Her chest felt like it was going to burst, her lungs working harder than they'd had to since she ran the mile her sophomore year. The fact that she was scared stiff probably had something to do with it though, because running short distances usually didn't bother her. She fumbled with the door knob to the back door, only to find that door locked as well. He'd trapped her in here, and he wasn't going to let her go. She kicked the door once, allowing tears to run down her face as she sobbed. She wasn't going to get out of this alive. She was going to die.

All of a sudden, a key clicked in the front door. She looked to face it, her eyes widening as she realized the only possible explanation for that.

He was back.

**Cliffhangerrrrrrrr... ;P**

**I have to say, I really enjoy writing Jason's parts. I like writing Melanie's parts too, but I find it so interesting how Jason's mind works and how he interprets things. It's SO AWESOME. Don't you agree?**

**Yeah... even though I like writing Jason's parts, it's kinda funny how Melanie's parts end up being longer. XD Maybe it's just because Melanie needs to be introduced to everything, like Pamela's head and Jason's childhood, while Jason... well, he knows his mama and he was there for the majority of his childhood... XD *is shot for trying to make a joke and failing horribly***

**Anyway, stay tuned and review! I'll love you forever if you do! ^^**


	5. For the Good Girl

He was happy with the way he'd gotten rid of the bad people. He had stabbed and slashed, ripping their flesh off, until the only part of their bodies that still had any skin were their heads. He had first cut into their chests, making sure their bad hearts were forever stopped. Then he proceeded to tear their bodies apart, mutilating them so meticulously that if he hadn't left their faces untouched, they wouldn't be recognizable. But he wanted them to be recognizable, because otherwise the good girl wouldn't understand what he had done for her. And after he was done with that, he had slipped his machete, still covered in the sweet red liquid that had been spilled from their bodies (he'd clean it later), back into the place where his belt would have gone if he'd had one, and set back to the house.

He put his key back into the lock with one hand, as the other hand was holding his special presents for the good girl. When he turned the key, he thought he heard the good girl make a noise from inside, but it didn't sound like she was upstairs. Maybe she'd come down for a drink, or to look at the rest of the house, and he'd startled her by coming in. Once he walked inside, though, he didn't see her, so maybe he was just imagining things. She must still be upstairs waiting for him. He wondered if she'd gone into his mother's room and met her yet.

He thought to his mother, willing her to come to him, and she did. He wanted to know if she thought the good girl would like his gifts.

_**I'm sure she will, Jason darling,**_ his mother assured him. _**After all, you spent so much effort on them, didn't you? And you did it with your own two hands. I bet she'll appreciate that you were willing to do so much for her. She's a good girl, I know she'll like them. Maybe she'll want more, just like them. If she does, would you do that for her?**_

He nodded eagerly, trudging up the stairs back to his room where the good girl was waiting for him. Of course he would! If the good girl wanted more gifts like the ones he was going to give her now, he would surely get her more.

He really hoped she wanted more of them.

His mother left for the time being, and he went to open the door. But then he realized that perhaps she'd found an outfit she wanted to wear, or maybe she had gone to sleep. He knew that some women, good ones included, slept with their shirts off because it was more comfortable. And if she'd found a shirt she liked, she might be in the middle of changing into it. If he walked in on either of those scenarios, he'd be a bad boy. So he lifted the hand that wasn't holding her presents and knocked a few times - a little louder than he'd meant to.

It was a minute before the good girl answered him with a shout. "You can come in! It's your house, isn't it?"

He blinked a few times, then reached for the door knob, hiding the gifts behind his back; he wanted to surprise her with them. Of course it was his house, but she was his guest. A good host always knocked before entering their guests' rooms. Maybe she just wasn't used to being a guest. That was probably it.

He opened the door and walked inside, looking in tentatively just to make sure she was decent. She was still dressed in the same outfit, the tank top and shorts, and she was lying on his bed. Her hair and arms were thrown over the side facing the wall, and her legs dangled over the other side. She looked like she was breathing hard, but maybe that was only because it was cold. You breathed faster when it was cold, didn't you?

He held up his free hand in a greeting-type gesture, trying to smile behind his mask. He just wanted to show her that he was back and he wasn't going to hurt her.

She sat up and took a few deep breaths before nodding. "... Hi..." She seemed to notice now that he was holding something behind his back. She leaned to the side, as if trying to see. "What have you got there?"

Now was as good a time as any to show her his surprise. He pulled his hand out from behind his back, and held the heads of the bad boy and the bad girl out for her to see.

And she screamed again.

* * *

Melanie shrieked when the killer held out two severed heads in front of her. She screamed a second time when she realized they weren't just anyone's heads - they were Sam's and Kris's. He was holding them by their hair, and there was still blood dripping down from their necks. Their faces were frozen in fear, like they'd been caught in a scream. Just like Pamela's had been when she'd wandered into that room.

She almost fell backward off the bed, shaking in fear of her own. She yanked her feet up on the bed and cowered, scooting back from him. "St-Stay away! Why... Why would you do something like that?" She began to cry, realizing that this meant he'd killed them. She didn't care about Kris, but Sam... he killed her brother. She covered her mouth, trying to keep the sobs in, but she couldn't. "Oh God, oh God... oh, God, Sam... you killed Sam..." She couldn't stop looking at his head. It was like he was looking right at her, asking her why she had let this happen.

The killer tilted his head to the side in an inquisitive manner, as if he wanted to know why she didn't like it.

"Why the fuck do you _think_ I don't like it?" she yelled through her hands, her breath catching in her throat as she continued to weep. "You killed my big brother and now you're showing me his cut-off head! What the hell is wrong with you?"

The killer put the heads down on the floor by the doorway, then came over and sat on the bed next to her, grabbing his pad on the way. She was uneasy being so close to him, but she knew if she said anything he'd probably kill her too. That knife still had blood on it, and she knew he wasn't afraid to kill women - Kris's head was proof of that.

He wrote for a few seconds, then held up the pad to show her what he'd written. 'They were supposed to be gifts for you, good girl. Don't you like them?'

Melanie inched away from him a little bit. Maybe... Maybe he still thought like a child. If that was the case, then he must have thought he'd been doing something good for her by killing Sam and Kris, and that having their heads as presents would make her like him. She shook her head, pushing the pad back toward him. "No... no. I'm really sorry you... went to all this trouble but... I-I really don't like them. I would... p-prefer it if you just... got rid of them. Please?"

He drew a line under what he'd just written and proceeded to write something else, then he held it up for her. 'I'm sorry. I was just trying to protect you and make you happy.'

She shook her head. "N-No, it's... it's not... it's not your fault. I'm sorry you wasted so much effort for me."

He cocked his head again, then came over a little closer to her. She almost couldn't believe it as he reached out toward her. She could see his hand coming toward her face... what was he going to do to her now?

**OMG thanks to everybody who read and reviewed! ^^ :D**

**To everyone who also likes the Halloween series (OMG glomp Mikey) I have a Michael Myers fic started, if you wanna check it out... *is shot for shameless self-promotion* Ummm... ow?**

**Alsooooo... I'm thinking of doing a couple other Jason fics. One where there's this counselor when he was a kid that actually PAID ATTENTION to the kids (OMG shock, I know right?) and she comes back to find him with her kids and sister, and the other one with Freddy's apprentice (my OC) who befriends and cares for Jason. (Somebody on deviantArt had the original idea, but I'm going to make my character different from hers and I'd credit her for inspiring me).**

**Which one do you guys wanna see first? :D**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, I loves you guys! ^^**


	6. A Shot in the Dark

He reached over because he saw something out of place. He could see the fear showing in her face, but he was confused as to why she was scared now. He told her the bad people's heads were supposed to be presents, and she didn't seem mad at him. She seemed to understand, even if she didn't like the gifts he'd gotten for her. So why did she shy away when he went to touch her? Maybe it was because he hadn't yet cleaned off his knife, and maybe she didn't like blood...

He carefully took her hoop earring in one hand. With the other, he set free a few strands of her blonde hair that had gotten tangled around it. He saw her sigh in what seemed like relief when that was all he did, and her eyes followed his fingers exactly. "Thanks. Maybe you're not as bad as Sam said..."

Maybe she liked watching his hands. He could understand that. And since she did, he began to do more things with his hands for her to look at. He reached behind her and took her admittedly messy ponytail in both hands. He could hear her breathing hard, but maybe she was just nervous because she didn't know him very well. Good people were always careful around strangers and new people. He gently pulled out the thin, stretchy, clear band that was holding her hair in place. It tumbled out and made a gold cascade down her shoulders and back, smoothing out as he caressed it. He did this to make it flow better, to get it all the way back down to her hips. He took a section of it and began to run his gloved fingers through it. It was shiny, soft, and even though he was wearing gloves it felt like he was putting his fingers right into a still pond.

He could hear the good girl clear her throat, and before he knew what she was doing she had her hand resting lightly on his wrist. She gave his wrist a cautious tug, like she was trying to make him let go. "Yes, that's my hair."

He had to smile behind his mask. Did she think he didn't know what hair was? Just because he didn't have any didn't mean he had no idea what it was.

She gave his hand another gentle yank. "Would you please let go of it? You're pulling too hard, it hurts."

He drew his hand away, allowing her maize-hued follicles to slip from his touch. He looked down, hoping this would make her realize he was sorry.

"It's okay." He felt her hand on his back, just barely touching him. "It didn't hurt that bad. I'm fine, see? I'm alright."

He looked up and she was holding her hair out so he could see if she was bleeding. She wasn't. He felt relieved; he hadn't hurt the good girl. He was still a good boy.

* * *

Melanie had to admit, she hadn't expected the killer to just reach over and do something... nice for her like that. She figured he'd pull on her earrings, not get her hair out of them. When she thought about it, he wasn't quite as scary as she'd imagined he'd be. Of course, the fact that she couldn't see his real face was a little disconcerting, but he hadn't hurt her yet. If he was all bad, he'd have killed her the minute he saw her. And when she asked him nicely to let go of her hair because he was hurting her, he did. He didn't make some big scene or yell at her that she shouldn't be making requests of him. He just... did it, no fuss.

She adjusted herself on the bed, and sat Indian-style now. He mimicked her movements so that he sat the same way, and he was looking at her through the eye holes in his mask. She couldn't really see his eyes, but she imagined they were a dark color. She glanced down at his pad. "Do you want to tell me your name?"

He shook his head, pointed at himself, then pointed at her. After that, he held up his first finger, then his second, and then a third, then put his hands down in his lap altogether.

She blinked a few times, trying to think of what that could mean. Him... her... and the number three, referring to his name. She brushed her now free hair back (where had he put her rubber band?) and rested her cheek on her fist. Was he saying he'd give her three tries to guess his name? Maybe he was being funny about that. "You want me to guess your name?"

He nodded.

"Couldn't you just write it down for me?"

He shook his head, and she sighed. Apparently he wanted to play with her or something.

She began to wring her hands, thinking. "How many guesses do I get?"

He shrugged, indicating that it didn't matter.

"Okay, um..." She remembered, at least, that Sam had told her his name earlier, and his name started with a J. "Um... James."

He shook his head.

"Uh... Jack?"

Another negative.

"Hmm..." She thought as hard as she could. Maybe his name didn't start with a J after all. Maybe it was an M. "Mason?" She didn't know why she guessed that; it was just her dad's name.

He shook his head again, but finally he did something different. He held up his thumb and index finger, and pinched them together. Was he saying she almost had it?

She sat up a little. "Does your name start with a J?"

He nodded eagerly, obviously happy that she'd made some progress.

If his name was _close_ to Mason and started with a J... "Is your name Jason?"

He nodded again, clapping a few times as if to congratulate her.

"What's your last name? Can I guess that too?"

He shook his head, held up two fingers, and pounded his fists together.

"'Too hard'? It'd be too hard for me to guess? Well, can you write it down for me?"

He nodded, reaching over and grabbing his pad and pen. He wrote for a second, then held it up. 'Voorhees.'

"Jason Voorhees? Huh. I like it." She lie back on the bed, noticing it was kind of small - like a kid's little bed. "You wanna know my name?" She glanced up so she could see his answer. He nodded, so she took a breath to speak. "I'm Melanie Fields."

Neither one of them spoke after that. Melanie lie there and waited for Jason to do something or tell her to do something. She finally sat up again and looked at him. "Why do you keep your mom's head in your house?"


	7. Uncomfortable Silence

Jason looked over at the good girl, who he now knew was Melanie. He wasn't quite sure why she'd ask a question like that, but at least that had given him some new information. She'd gone exploring around the house and she'd met his mother. That was good, at least he didn't have to introduce her now. It was always a little awkward introducing a new person, especially a girl, to his mother.

He stood up without writing anything back to her. He didn't have to give her a response to that kind of a question. He took a grayed cloth from his dresser, sat down on the bed again, and began to wipe the blood from his machete. He scrubbed back and forth, over and over, cleaning the crimson liquid so that he could see the reflective silver again. It was so shiny whenever he cleaned it off, that when he looked at it, he could see himself. That upset him though... he didn't like mirrors. He hated being reminded of the reason he always had to cover his face. He thought of Melanie, sitting right there on his bed, and decided that she would be very frightened if she ever really saw his face. He wore the mask to keep his face hidden, to protect everyone else from his gruesome appearance.

He could hear Melanie getting impatient with him. "So that's it, then? You aren't going to answer me? What, I'm suddenly not worth your time?" She sighed. "Would you answer me, Jason? Please?"

He didn't answer that either. Why should she think such things? Of course she was worth his time. He just didn't feel like writing anymore. Maybe he should tell her that so she didn't think he hated her.

"Alright." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her cross her arms over her chest. "Fine, don't talk to me. I don't care. I can survive _hours_ of nobody talking. Just see if I care, stay quiet for as long as you can. It'll actually be peaceful for once. I hate noise, I'm _glad_ you're not talking to me."

He gave a mental chuckle at the way she was phrasing it. If she could stand a lot of silence, why didn't she just shut up? It was like she was going on and on about how she didn't care if it was quiet, just to stop the quiet. As if she didn't like the quiet, the silence, all the serene qualities that made this place his home.

As he cleaned his knife, he began to feel a little bored himself. He had a guest; he should be entertaining her. But she didn't want to talk, or so she said, and she was all but refusing to speak to him now. That left the room - and by extension, the house - in complete and utter silence. But it wasn't a pleasant silence, like the kind he was used to at Crystal Lake. This was a sort of stifling, almost painful silence. He almost wanted to talk just so that there wouldn't be any silence. If Melanie hadn't been there, he would have considered this silence peaceful. But he was somewhat accustomed to her talking to him; now that she wasn't, it felt like something was missing.

He heard Melanie sigh again, but it wasn't like before. It had been an aggravated sigh before, but now she just sounded sad. In the mirror, he saw her sit up and bring her knees closer to her chest, holding them there by wrapping her arms around them. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm just... scared."

He was done cleaning his machete, so he decided he wanted to talk to her now. He put his knife down and went back over to the bed, sitting down beside her. He wrote for her, and gave it to her. 'Why are you scared?'

She shrugged and brushed her hair away from her face, leaning back against the pillow but not completely lying down. "I don't want to stay here. I didn't want to come here to begin with, and this place is freaking me out. I don't wanna die."

'Are you scared of me?' he wrote before giving it to her again.

She looked down in her lap for a moment, and he heard her swallow. Then she took a breath and looked up at him, right in his eyes - or, at least she was trying to - before nodding slowly. "I'm afraid you'll kill me."

'I won't. You're a good girl, so I have no reason to kill you.' After showing this to her, he began to doodle little pictures on the sides of the paper where he'd written. He drew stars, a sun, his machete, and some rocks. He drew what he remembered his mother to look like. He wanted to draw Melanie too, but by the time he was finished with his pictures there wasn't enough room and he didn't feel like drawing anymore. He flipped to a new page and wrote before displaying it to Melanie. 'You should go to sleep. I'm going to go put your presents somewhere else, then I'm going to sleep.'

She glanced up at him. "But if this is your bed, where are _you_ going to sleep?"

'Mother will let me sleep in her room tonight. I'll give you a different room tomorrow.'

"Why can't you just give me my room now?"

'It's too late and it's dark. You'd just trip over something and hurt yourself.'

She exhaled slowly, then lie down and turned over so that she was facing the wall instead of him, which wasn't surprising. She had to curl her legs up a little since the bed was small, but it didn't look like she was bothered by it. She shifted her head before muttering a soft, "Goodnight, Jason. If you try to kill me in my sleep I will wake up just to bite your fingers off."

He laughed quietly, then held his last paper in front of her, leaning over her so she could read it. 'Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning, good girl.'


	8. Uneasy Night

Melanie tried to sleep, but it was an almost enormous amount of effort to complete that nearly impossible feat. She was a little tired, but she was also terrified to fall asleep. What if Jason decided he didn't want to be nice anymore and killed her? She'd told him not to and it seemed like he agreed, but she had serious doubts about him actually _listening_ to her. He was a serial killer, for the sake of flying pickles! If he came in, looked at her, and started wondering about how her body would look all cut up, she would be dead. He was insane. He was deranged as fuck, and she was going to be stuck here for the rest of her life until he decided to kill her.

She lie there on the little child's bed, facing the one window in the room. No light came through it, which frightened her. She'd always been afraid of the dark, and being in a murderer's home wasn't doing _anything_ to help the situation. Like, at _all_. She sighed and decided to roll over and face the other direction. At least if she was facing the door, she could see when Jason came in and maybe she'd have a fighting chance if he decided to kill her. _Maybe_. There was still the chance that he could overpower her and leave her lying in a pool of her own blood. Yep, that sounded highly probable too.

She took a few breaths and tried to keep relatively calm. Jason had already assured her several times that he wasn't going to hurt her, hadn't he? She couldn't help but feel he was just telling her what she wanted to hear. She knew she should expect the best of people, but that almost always ended badly - especially with serial killers who'd just slaughtered your brother and his slut of a girlfriend. She just wasn't sure how to feel or what to think at this point. Even if he'd told her he wouldn't kill her, he could be one of those people who whenever they talked, every other sentence was a lie. She hated those kind of people, which was precisely the reason why she'd hated Kris. The only times that woman hadn't lied were when she told Melanie what she thought of her.

Melanie rolled back over onto her back and tossed an arm across her eyes, letting out a sigh. "I'm not getting out of here alive. If I ever get out of here they'll be trying to identify my body thanks to that damn machete." She groaned and put her other arm over her stomach. "I'm never gonna get to sleep."

She was startled out of her self-pity when a hand touched her shoulder. She barely bit back a scream as she yanked her arm away from her eyes. She was faced with Jason staring down at her from behind his hockey mask, which was more than a _little_ unnerving. "J-Jason...?"

She blinked when he realized he was holding out his notebook to her. She took it, and her eyes strained to read it; it was almost too dark to see his writing. 'Why aren't you asleep yet?'

She shook her head, handing the notebook back to him. "I-I'm sorry, Jason... I guess I just... I'm still scared."

He wrote more and handed it back. 'Scared of me?'

She nodded, taking some deep breaths and looking up at the ceiling. She put her hands behind her head before answering. "Yeah... I'm sorry. I'm just afraid I-I'll say something wrong or... you'll get bored... and you'll kill me."

He looked at her for a few seconds, almost sadly, then wrote something else and gave it to her. 'You're a good girl. Why do you keep thinking I'll kill you after I've said I won't?'

* * *

Jason had been talking to his mother in her room, enjoying the conversation they shared. He always did, he loved it when they talked. But he had a feeling that something wasn't right with Melanie, and since he was thinking about that, he sometimes took longer to respond to his mother's comments or questions, and he had to ask her to repeat herself more.

Obviously she had gotten annoyed with it, because she told him to go check on Melanie. When he "asked" why, she said that she thought something was wrong with her and apparently Jason did too. She said that if he went to go check on her, they'd both feel better. So he did.

He found her lying on the bed, one arm across her eyes and one over her stomach. She was muttering things like, "I'm never gonna get to sleep" and "I'm not getting out alive" over and over. She was quite clearly distressed and in great emotional pain. He wasn't sure what he could do to help ease the pain.

So he just touched her shoulder. After he did, she jumped and looked up at him before simply saying his name. He wrote her a message, asking her why she wasn't asleep yet. She should be, it was late. And she she she was sorry, but she was still scared. He knew she was scared of him, but he asked if she was anyway. And this was confirmed when she answered yes, she was still afraid he'd kill her. So he asked her why she thought that, even though he'd assured her several times that he wouldn't be touching his machete to her skin anytime soon.

She lie there in silence for a few seconds. He wasn't sure what she was doing; she was either looking at the ceiling or trying to see through it to the sky. Or maybe she was just thinking. Finally she just looked at him once, then looked down at the bedsheets. "I just... I'm one of those people, you know? I expect the worst of everybody. Especially serial killers, thank you very much."

He tilted his head quizzically, then wrote back to her. 'Why? How come you don't expect the best of people?'

She sighed in an irritated manner when she read this, and she sat up. She dangled her legs over the side of the bed, finally looking into his eyes. "Because when you expect the best of everyone you meet, there's..." She shook her head, glancing over at the mirror. "When you expect the best of people, you get disappointed too much. When you're expecting the worst, you don't get disappointed. You get pleasantly surprised if they're better than you expected."

He contemplated that for a second, thinking about the fact that she was probably right. If you expected the best of people, you were going to be constantly let down. Then he thought of something, and wrote it down for her to read. 'Am I better than you expected me to be, Melanie?'

She read that, then handed him his notebook back, shrugging. "Well, you're not as bad as you _could_ be, I guess... but I'm sorry, you scare me."

'I guess that can't be helped,' he wrote back to her. 'After all, I know I'm rather... scary. But please go to sleep, you need sleep. You'll be sleeping all day tomorrow if you don't go to sleep now.'

She nodded, then held out her hand. "Hey... Hey, Jason?"

He cocked his head to the side, hoping she would take this as a "Yes?" He didn't feel like another written exchange just to answer to his own name.

She finally found what she was looking for when she grasped his hand in her own. Even through his glove, he could feel the warmth from her hand seeping into his. She wasn't holding very tightly, but he had the strangest urge to grip her hand tighter. He wanted to hold her hand and put his arm around her so she would never leave. He had to keep her here. When was the last time he'd had a guest here? When was the last time there was somebody at Camp Crystal Lake that was _good_, somebody he didn't have to kill? He didn't remember. He didn't think there was ever a time that he allowed someone to stay alive here for more than a few hours. But Melanie was different. Melanie was a good girl, so he didn't have to kill her. So he wasn't sure how to think about it... if she was a good girl, she wouldn't leave him alone, would she? She shouldn't. If she left then she was bad and she'd have to be killed... right? Oh, maybe someone wasn't bad if they left... he really didn't even know anymore. Now his head was hurting.

After a minute of keeping her fingers in Jason's hand, Melanie carressed the palm of his glove with her index finger. The sea green polish on her nails shone out brightly against the raven black of his gloves as she traced circles on his hand, tickling him a little bit. "Thank you... for not killing me. Thank you for taking care of me."

He nodded, then stood up. No matter how much he wanted to just stay there and hold her hand, make sure she didn't leave him, he had to get to sleep himself. He was already feeling sort of tired, and if he didn't sleep soon he knew he'd get irritable - when he was irritable he knew how irresistable the feeling of wanting to kill got.

He let his fingers slip from Melanie's, and walked back over to the door. Placing a hand on the frame, he glanced back at her before leaving. She had pulled the blanket over herself, and was looking over at him, almost as if waiting for him to leave so she could go to sleep. He nodded, his equivalent of again saying "Goodnight". He then walked out, a small smile forming beneath his mask.

She'd stay.

**O to the M to the G! I'm irritated...**

**My friend still hasn't brought the movies for me. The first day he forgot, then he wasn't there because there were visitations some of us had to help with the next day and obviously he hadn't signed up to help but me and my other friend did. (That other friend is mah bestie and he was mah ride...) He probably forgot over the weekend, and he wasn't even there yesterday because his school was closed thanks to weather. (I go to a career technical school and many other schools in my district are allowed to attend...)**

***shakes fist at the sky* Haku and Hitsugaya, once I get my hands on you two then you shall be toast!**

**... Maybe I'll just ask Freddy to kill them... O.O But then I'd have to do something I didn't want to... umm... JASON HONEY I HAVE A FAVOR TO ASK! -^.^-**

**BTW, I have something to ask you people who have seen the movies. I ****think my friend said he had Jason X and some other one (can't remember...****). Is Jason X any good? I read like a summary online and it seems like he goes into the future or something... and I'm not sure if I like that picture I'm getting of Jason in the future... XD I'm not fond of sci-fi in the first place and I might not like it if Jason was stuck in sci-fi...**

**OH! And I HAVE seen little clips of the movies in THIS awesome Jason highlights video:**

**http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=c49ZlWaEY_g&NR=1&feature=fvwp**

**It features the song "He's Back (The Man Behind the Mask)" by Alice Cooper, which was written SPECIFICALLY for one of the Friday the 13th movies. If ya didn't know... anyway it's a rockin' song. I be listenin' to it as we speak... XD Well, as I speak to you... sadly I didn't make this vid, but I HOPE to make a Jason one sometime in the near or... not-so-far future... XD I watched this vid and at one of the parts Jason was firing up some kind of hand-operated machine that he pulled the string or something... and I was watching it with my friend and I pointed to the screen and I was like "OMFG Jason found the power tools! We're all doom-ED!"**

**Well, I've filled up enough space... HAVE A GOOD MILLENNIUM! ^^**


	9. Issues

Melanie woke up the next day, and immediately began to panic. Where was she? What the hell was she doing in a kid's cabin? And where were Sam and Kris?

But then she remembered everything. The Camp Crystal Lake killer, who had so very nicely allowed her to stay here (oh, how she loved sarcasm), had murdered Sam and Kris before showing her their gruesomely decapitated and bloody heads. After which she'd screamed her own head off, and he had apologized, taking the heads somewhere else. He'd had her guess his name, which was Jason Voorhees. He wrote down his last name for her (since he apparently didn't speak), but wanted her to guess his first name for some reason.

As she got up and looked in the mirror to fix her hair, she decided maybe it was because he wanted someone to play with. Other than the killing and his vocabulary, he seemed to act somewhat like a kid. She tied her hair up in a bun and thought that maybe he just needed a friend.

"Where is he, anyway?" she muttered, heading to the door. "Guy kills your brother, takes you hostage, and he doesn't even manage to be around when you wake up? It's like a pimp kidnapping you and your people, except the guy kills your bro instead of banging your best friend..."

She walked out the door and was actually surprised to find Jason _not_ waiting for her. She would have expected that any "warden", so to speak, in their right mind would leave their "prisoner" alone and allow them a chance to escape. But first of all, she knew Jason was most definitely _not_ in his right mind. He was crazy; anybody who walked around in a hockey mask with a giant machete and killed "bad people" was most certainly in need of mental treatment.

"Jason," she called with a sigh. He _was_ mental, but it looked like she'd have to take care of him - at least until he decided he didn't need or want her anymore and killed her. "Jason, where are you? You even in here?" She decided it was kind of a moot point, since he couldn't speak, but she realized _that_ too late.

There was a loud bang, as if he was trying to tell her he was here.

"Well, where are you? Downstairs?"

Another bang, but she wasn't sure if it meant yes or no. It didn't sound like it was coming from anywhere up here though, so she walked down the steps very carefully. It seemed like he'd been living in this cabin for a pretty long time; who knew if the steps could give in at any minute?

She glanced into the kitchen and there he was. He was just sitting there, hands folded on the table, staring straight ahead, probably wearing a blank expression under his mask. When she walked in, he looked up and tilted his head, then slowly raised one hand. She assumed this was his equivalent of saying, "Good morning, did you sleep well?"

She yawned as she sat down across from him, rubbing her head. "Yeah... I guess so. Didn't wake up in the middle of the night screaming for my mother or anything. How was your night?"

He shrugged.

"Normal?"

Nod.

"Good, I guess..." She looked around, leaning forward a little. "Am I allowed to eat breakfast?"

He nodded, sitting back in his chair and putting his hands instead in his lap.

She stood up and began to look through the cupboards to see if there was anything remotely edible in here. "You want anything?"

She turned around briefly to see his answer, and was caught off guard when he "said" no. "Aren't you hungry?"

He shook his head. Apparently he wasn't.

"Are you sure? I'd feel bad eating in front of you, especially when it's your food in the first place."

He shrugged, adjusting his mask.

"Well, if I make something for you, are you going to eat it?"

She received a nod, which was satisfactory for her. She turned around and started to make oatmeal, which seemed to be the only thing in the cupboards that didn't have a bad expiration date. "So... I saw those pictures on the mirror in your room. Was that you when you were a kid?"

Looking out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod almost stiffly, like he didn't want to talk about it. So of course she pursued it. She was really just looking for anything that she could turn into a conversation. She got uneasy and nervous when it was quiet in this house, because it gave her a chance to think, and her thoughts weren't pleasant at the moment. "You were cute as a kid. Maybe it's just because kids are _all_ cute, but you were adorable."

Obviously he wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, because when she glanced back at him, he didn't move.

She shook her head a little and continued to speak. "It looked like you went here as a kid. And that picture with the lady and the little baby, was that your mom holding you?"

She looked back and saw him nod just barely.

"That's cool. She's really pretty, and, um..." She flashed back to the time she'd seen Pamela's head in that room, or been "introduced" to her, as Jason seemed to think of it. "She seems like a really nice woman. Do you love her a lot?"

He nodded again, but the way he was looking off to the side, it seemed like he wanted her to just drop the subject.

"Um... sooo... did your mom work here? Is that why you were here when you were little?"

Another nod, but this time his hand was on the table and she could see his fist clench, like he _really_ wanted to yell at her or hit her or something.

"That's nice. My mother's a librarian, so the only thing I can really associate with my childhood is reading books and being quiet. And_ oh_! I never told you, I'm almost nineteen. I just finished high school last spring and I'm not sure what kind of college I'm going to go to yet. And even though I'm technically an adult I still live with my parents too. And I'm an only child, but I have a friend who has kids and she made me the godmother so it's kind of like I have a little brother and sister. So how old are you?"

Finished with making their breakfast, she decided to _try_ and be nice by giving Jason his first. While waiting for his answer, she picked up one bowl, walked over to the table, and placed it in front of him along with a spoon. "So?"

He didn't even look up at her before raising his hand. She was afraid he'd smack her, but he didn't. Instead he flung his arm out to the side, hitting the bowl and propelling it to the side, where it flew toward and eventually crashed into the wall, splattering it, the floor, and Melanie with its contents.

Then he simply stood up, and walked into the living room, leaving Melanie to wonder, in fear, what on Earth she could have possibly said wrong.

**YO.**

**Okay, so somebody great gave me some awesome constructive criticism last chapter. (You know who you are and your stories be rockin'!) She pointed out a few things I need to improve on and stuff like that.**

**First off, Melanie's reaction to Sam's severed head. Yeah, I know it wasn't that realistic, but that's only because she and Sam aren't really that close. She's not that close to any of her family, and she felt that Sam had made a bad choice dating Kris so that just made it worse. So that's why she wasn't completely traumatized when she saw Sam's head. She was temporarily disturbed, but it's not like she's going to need therapy for the rest of her life.**

**And also, just clearing this up too: She _doesn't_ really want anything to do with Jason at this point. She just does what she thinks will please him because she's afraid of him. Plus she is kind of curious about him because he didn't kill _her_ and even though he tells her why a bunch of times she's still confused. So yeah, she's just trying to stay alive as long as possible since she's afraid he'll kill her at some point.**

**So just clearing up a few things. And I think I may change one of the tags from horror to something else. What should I change it to? Any suggestions?**

**Oh yeah, and I know it isn't that original. But since this IS my first Friday the 13th story, I'd like to kind of follow a "guideline" of sorts, meaning the other stories. I know the concept has been done to death, I was just trying to see how people liked my style with this idea before I tried doing something a little more original. But don't worry, I promise there are some twists just up the road! *points up Voorhees Avenue* *is shot for trying to make a joke that wasn't funny***

**By the way, I'm almost done watching the first Friday the 13th movie. The effects are cheesy and it doesn't seem too scary... which is OK by me! I don't like TOO scary... so hopefully gonna be seeing more of them soon! Maybe then I can keep Jason in better character and improve Melanie's...**

**Well, I'm out! Got writing to do... aw hell, I don't HAVE to... I just finished chapter 16 so I have enough but... ah well. I like writing it so I'm gonna KEEP AT IT BABEH. Gonna be at least 20 chapters but I certainly can't imagine it ending there so probably more. XD**

**... And if you guys wanna check out my other Jason story... *shameless self-promotion once more* XD It's called The Ties They Cannot Sever. It's mostly a friendship one, but I HAD to squeeze romance in there because come on, it's JASON... soooo... yeah.**

**BAI BAI! ^^**


	10. Hurt

Jason stalked out of the kitchen, livid and trying to keep the thoughts of killing Melanie out of his mind. She should have more sense than to ask questions like that and assume things. Sure, his mother had worked at the camp and that was why he'd attended; but why the hell did she just _assume_ that kind of stuff? He thought she'd be smarter than that, but maybe she just had some kind of nerve. And why the hell did she think he wanted to hear about _her_ family life? He didn't care if she was a godmother or whatever it was called, he didn't _care_ how she'd grown up or that she still didn't know what she was going to do with her life. Sometimes he just thought she liked the sound of her own voice.

_**Jason!**_ his own mother scolded. _**Jason! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I am so disappointed in you. Not ONLY did you break one of Mommy's good bowls, you hurt Melanie's feelings too!**_

He grunted, sitting down on the sofa and crossing his arms. _Better than hurting her body, isn't it?_

_**Oh Jason. Did you see that look on her face when you did that? She just wants to know a little more about you. She's a good girl and she cares.**_

_She shouldn't be asking stuff like that - about you, and about when I was a kid. She doesn't have any right._

_**She has as much right to ask about you as you do to ask about her!**_

_But I don't CARE about her._

_**You do so, Jason.**_

_But I-_

_**If Mommy says you do, then you do! No matter if you ask questions about her or not, you have the right to. So she has the same right. I want you to march back in there, young man, and you're going to apologize for what you just did. AND you're going to help her clean up that mess.**_

He groaned. _Do I really have to clean it up?_

_**You made the mess, you're going to at least HELP clean it up.**_

He sighed, and went to stand up, but before he could Melanie walked into the room. She was still covered with oatmeal; it was in her hair, on her top, and her shorts. She just stood there for a minute, then walked over to the couch and sat down beside him. "... Jason."

Not sure what to do, he looked over at her shyly. He knew he probably shouldn't have done that, but it just made him so mad the way she wanted to know _everything_, and the way she was bothering him with all these questions, especially so early in the morning. He wrung his hands, a little worried that she would yell at him.

"..." She reached over to him and placed her hand on top of his, effectively stopping his fidgeting. "I, um... well..."

He picked up his pad and pen, which he'd left on the table. 'I'm sorry,' he wrote before showing it to her.

She shook her head, pushing the notebook down onto his lap. "No, _I'm_ the one who should be sorry, Jason. I could tell I was bugging you, but I just didn't want everything to be all... quiet and stuff. I didn't really know what else to talk about."

He scratched his head, then wrote more. 'It's fine. Why didn't you ask me what I do in my spare time or something?'

She shrugged. "'Cause I know what you do in your spare time. You kill people."

'Not really,' he wrote back. 'Just bad people. And when there's nobody here, I like to read. And when I was little, I used to play the piano a little... but I don't really know how anymore.'

"Really? I used to play too, but I still remember. Maybe I could teach you again. Do you have a piano anywhere in camp?"

He shook his head.

"Well... that's out the window then." She sighed, then got up. "Well... maybe after I clean up the kitchen, we could go back up to your room and read a little bit. And I have some really good books in my suitcase, if you'd come with me to get them."

'I have to help you clean.'

She raised an eyebrow. "It really won't be that hard, I just have to make sure I don't step on any of the broken parts or cut myself on them."

'Mother says I have to. It was my fault, after all.'

She stretched a little. "Well, if you really want... by the way, you never answered me. Would you now?"

'About what?'

"Your age. How old are you?"

He hesitated a little, then wrote the number on his pad quickly. '64, I think, but I technically don't really... age like others do. I think I still look 21, maybe.'

"Really? Huh. You seem so much younger..." She shook her head. "How come you've stayed at Camp Crystal Lake for so long? And how come you don't 'age like others' or whatever?"

'Tell you later. Let's get the kitchen cleaned up, okay?'

She nodded. "Alright, let's go then."

* * *

Melanie felt better after she and Jason had apologized to each other. He may have been a serial killer, but at least he wasn't totally heartless. She at least knew he held some degree of concern for her safety and feelings. And he was a lot more considerate than the guys who were dicks that the world seemed to be filled with.

She walked into the kitchen with him, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was actually following her. He was still a man, after all; a lot of men couldn't be counted on for much. She'd have to keep an eye on him; even as a repeat murderer, he was a lot less... well... stupid than most guys. Maybe she could study that; "Being a Serial Killer Makes You More Intelligent". She had to laugh inwardly at that, she couldn't picture Jason on the cover of any magazine, or even agreeing to be photographed in the first place.

"Okay, so do you wanna wipe up the oatmeal and I can pick up the broken parts of the bowl, or...?" She raised an eyebrow, not sure which part he'd prefer doing.

He shook his head, and began to pick up the broken bowl's fragments. She noticed he wasn't wearing his gloves this morning; he must have taken them off to sleep. "You just be careful," she commented, grabbing a cloth and starting to clean up the oatmeal from the wall and floor. "Those are _really_ sharp."

He nodded, placing the parts he'd already gathered on top of the counter and bending down to get the rest.

She continued to wipe away the now inedible food, content to just have Jason helping her. She did this until she heard a soft grunt from him, so she turned around to see what the matter was. She was shocked to see him placing a particularly large piece of the bowl onto the counter with a bloody hand. She almost screamed and fainted, but managed to hold it back. She ran over to him, grabbing him by the wrist. "Oh, Jason! I told you to be careful! You cut yourself!"

He glanced up at her, shrugged, and bent down to finish his task.

"Wait, no, hold on! We've gotta fix this." She gave his arm a gentle tug, but he refused to move. "Jason, doesn't that hurt?"

He shook his head no, and wrenched his arm away from her. He got to his knees and tried to complete his portion of the work.

"For God's sake, don't _do_ that!" She took him under the elbow and attempted to pull him up. "You're going to cut your knees up too!" She put his hand palm-up on hers and looked at it, then held it up to his face. "Look at this. We need to get a bandage on it, or it's going to get infected." She carefully got him to his feet. "If it gets infected you're going to get sick. Come on... where's the first aid kit?"

He looked up at her, and she had the strangest feeling he was blinking behind the mask.

She tilted her head to the side, still holding his hand in hers. "Are you... Are you asking me why I'm helping you? Like, why I care?"

He nodded, looking down almost sheepishly and avoiding eye contact.

"Awwww..." She sighed and shook her head, her hand moving from the back of his to his wrist again. "Well, I mean... even though you're a murderer, and you killed my brother... you haven't tried to hurt me yet. You haven't been anything but hospitable to me. You're letting me stay here, and you haven't raised a hand to me..." She shrugged. "Maybe it's the sort of maternal instinct in me. After all, I'm technically in my prime for having children so maybe some of those hormones are being released now... I dunno, I never was good at biology so I really couldn't say for sure. Because trust me, I'm still afraid of you."

He shrugged back, but followed her back into the living room.

"Then again," she theorized as she sat him down and began her madcap search for any kind of first aid equipment, "I might just be warming up to you. I guess... I guess I was wrong. You're not really as bad as everyone says you are."

**O to the M to the G, AGAIN.**

**I just finished watching the first movie. The ending was creepy, but... um... interesting? For those of you who've seen it, you know what I mean. For those of you who haven't... well, you can find out yourselves. XD I didn't find it all that scary, but maybe the second one will be...**

**I will say this though, Pamela is batshit INSANE. Seemed nice at first, but I swear it's those kinda people you gotta watch... lol... I do like her though, just because she's Jason's mommy. :D Crazy peoples unite! ^0^**

**Well, I'm off to finish chapter 18 and make mores... bye bye. ^^**


	11. A Helping Hand

Living alone with Jason Voorhees, the Camp Crystal Lake Killer, wasn't always such an easy thing to do. After an entire week of living with him, Melanie still hadn't learned not to be afraid of him yet. His temper was still wildly unpredictable, and his disposition was far from that of a normal human being. Oddly, though, she didn't mind. What a week with him _had_ taught her, however, was that she needed to care about him. Nobody else did, and he seemed so lonely and self-conscious because of it. Every day she spent with him, it seemed like if she left a room she'd previously been in with him, he would follow her a few minutes later. She had gone into his room for a nap once (weirdly, he'd never given her a room of her own), telling him exactly what she was going to do, and when she woke up maybe an hour later, she found him sitting against the wall, asleep. Like he was either watching over her while she slept or he wanted to be close to her. Probably a little of both.

He slept there every night since that time. He didn't even go into his mother's room to sleep, as she had once suggested when she wondered out loud why he slept against the wall anymore. He just shrugged and told her, using the notebook, that he'd prefer to be close to her if any idiots came to the camp and went snooping around; that way if they came into the room where she was sleeping he would be awakened and could kill them quickly. While that was a rather morbid motive, she did find it kind of sweet that he was trying to protect her.

So when she woke up one morning, still tired and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, to find him not in his usual spot on the wall, of course she panicked a little. Where was he? Had some people arrived here and he'd gone to dispose of them? And if so... he was a quick killer. He could have the job done in five minutes, if not less. If that had happened, he should already be back by now.

She got up, opened the door, and stuck her head out. "Jason? Jason, where are you? Are you in here, are you okay?"

A low moan came from downstairs, like he was in pain. Why was he downstairs?

Not even bothering to throw her jacket on (since she was still in one of the shorter night tops she'd gotten from her original cabin), she hurried out of the room and ran down the steps. "Jason!" Worry quickened her heartbeat. She may have been afraid of him, but she was more afraid of losing him. He was the only person keeping her alive here. She wasn't sure if she could fend for herself. She didn't dare go near Sam and Kris's cabin to get the keys for Sam's car, and hotwiring it was a definite no-no that required intellect she didn't possess.

She raced to the living room, where she found Jason on the couch in what looked like a passed-out position. But it seemed like he didn't believe in drinking, and unless he'd been hit over the head with a vase recently, a hangover or a concussion didn't seem likely.

She ran to him, carefully placing a hand on his stomach, to test if it hurt because maybe he was sick. "Jason! Jason, are you okay? Talk to me!" As soon as she had said that, she realized how incredibly _blonde_ she'd just sounded. She was proving the people who made dumb-blonde stereotypes right... "Jason..." She moved her hand to his arm, since it didn't seem like it was his stomach that was the problem. "What's the matter? Can you tell me or show me?"

It looked like he was trying to nod, but then an awful sound came from behind his mask. It sounded like he was coughing, but it was so harsh and sharp that it scared her. She saw his chest rise and fall in sync with it, and it was so fast and hard that her worry became paranoia.

"For God's sakes!" She took her hand off his arm and moved it to his chest, and she was frightened by what she felt. It sounded and felt exactly like a coughing fit, but it was shaking him more than it should. "You sound terrible..." She took a glance out the window and saw water covering everything. "Were you out in the rain last night, Jason?"

He managed a nod between coughs, issuing a raspy noise that sounded distinctly like a "yes". Was he seriously trying to _talk_? Now, of all times? Or maybe he was just trying to tell her in any way he could that he'd gone out in the rain.

She sat on the edge of the couch and looked at his now vulnerable form, still being wracked with coughs, and wondered what she should do. She wasn't sure; if he couldn't get up, he must be in bad shape. She hadn't known him to not be able to stand up before. She placed one hand on his hockey mask and took a deep breath. There was only one thing she could promise him. "Don't worry, Jason... I'm going to take care of you."

* * *

Jason hadn't disobeyed his mother directly. She'd told him not to go _play_ out in the rain; what he'd done couldn't exactly be classified as playing. He'd gone out to see if he could find anything from Melanie's first cabin that she might have left there. But a good portion of doing that was simply walking from his cabin to hers, which was a full five minutes each way.

He'd felt the cold rain soaking through his clothes as he'd gotten back to his own cabin. The frigid water seeped down through the fabric into his skin, even darting behind his mask as he walked back. But it hadn't occurred to him that he could be sick until he got back into the cabin and began to shiver and cough. He didn't know what time it was, or when Melanie would be awake, and he didn't want to wake her up for something like this. So he'd just lie down on the couch and tried to go back to sleep himself. But it didn't work, what with the coughs making it nearly impossible for him to catch a decent breath and the chills tearing through his entire body with each tremor.

He felt relieved when Melanie finally awoke. She shouted his name several times, but he couldn't speak for her so he just made a noise. She'd come running down the stairs, still in her considerably revealing nightclothes, and rushed to his side. When he started coughing again she put a hand on his chest and he didn't know what sensation made its way into him when he saw the pitying look in her emerald eyes as she looked at him. He didn't want her to worry over him, especially for something as stupid as being sick. It was his own fault that he'd gotten sick, so it should be his responsibility to take care of himself and get better.

She put a hand on his mask and whispered to him that she wouldn't let him go this alone. She promised to take care of him, and that made him feel... good, for some reason. He knew she was still afraid of him, but she was caring for him despite that.

When she began to move his mask downward, like she was going to take it off, he grunted. Taking what was left of his strength he lifted his arm and smacked her hand away. He glared at her from behind the mask; he didn't want her to see what he really looked like. She could never see.

Melanie huffed, and he could see her roll her eyes as she put her hands on her hips. "Oh, don't make such a big deal of it, Jason!" She put her hand back on his mask. "I'm just going to move it enough to see if you have a fever. I'm not going to take it off all the way."

He groaned, but didn't stop her again. He coughed a few more times, then closed his eyes, suddenly feeling more tired than before.

He relished the feeling of Melanie's touch against his forehead. Her hand was soft and cool on his skin, like you would expect a mother's touch to be. Her fingers danced delicately and smoothly over his head, making him a little less warm. "Hmm. Yeah... yeah, you definitely have a fever. And your cough is really horrible too... you probably have a bad chest cold. Don't worry, I know how to treat that."

He nodded tiredly, rolling over to lay on his side. He almost fell off the couch, but Melanie caught him before he did and helped him back up. She brushed his forehead one last time, then said she was going to go get something and he could hear her footsteps leaving the cabin.

Yeah... he was in good hands.

**... Poor Jason, being sick and all. He'll probably be a little out of character this chapter and next, but sometimes you don't act like yourself when you're sick soooo... I can get away with it? XD**

**... Hmm... I have "Jason Voorhees" written on my arm, accompanied by a little heart on my hand. XD Blame the fact that I got bored during sophomore visitations at my tech school today. LOL.**

**ANYWAY. Thanks for reading and reviewing! (ESPECIALLY REVIEWING! :D)**

**... ^^**


	12. All I Can Do

Melanie was a little surprised when she felt Jason's forehead, because she'd never felt anyone that warm before. Then again, it wasn't like she took care of a bunch of sick people, so maybe it just felt warm to her because she wasn't used to it.

She stood up and looked around for something she could break a window with. She knew there was cough syrup in Sam's car, which he was too stupid to unpack, but it was locked. Breaking into it was the only way she could get to the medicine for Jason. She saw an abandoned ax by the doorway, and grabbed it. "I'm going to go get some medicine, I'll be right back. Oh, and I'm borrowing this... thing... that can break glass. Be back in just a minute!"

She hurried out the door, closing it after herself. She started to walk toward the car, which was maybe twenty yards from the cabin. Then she broke out in a run, and finally reached the car. She lifted the ax and brought it down on the window, shattering the glass. She shielded herself as it went flying, and then leaned inside the broken window, making sure not to cut herself on the jagged glass still left. She saw the black bag that held emergency medical supplies (Sam was such an idiot for leaving them there...) and grinned as she reached for it and picked it up, yanking it and herself out of the car. "Bingo!"

Once she was back inside Jason's cabin, she put the ax back where she'd found it and opened the bag. "Okay, um... yeah. There's Tylenol and cough syrup in here, it looks like..." She dug the two boxes out. "The Tylenol should keep your fever down, and the cough syrup should help make your coughing go away a little bit."

She was caught off guard that he took both the medicines without fighting with her about it. But he did. He lifted up his mask just enough to reveal his mouth, and he swallowed the Tylenol and cough syrup (she hated the taste of the stuff, but oddly he didn't make a fuss). He just lie there on the couch and let her do what she needed to do, trusting her completely. She couldn't really be afraid of him while he was like this, when he didn't even want to move. So she just sat there with him and put her hand on his mask, trying to feel what he looked like, and stroked his arm, and held his hand, doing the absolute best she could to keep him calm. "Do you want me to tell you a story?" she said quietly, lightly running her fingers across that one spot on his arm over and over.

He nodded, coughing a few times.

"Okay, what book do you want me to read?"

He shook his head.

Confused, she raised an eyebrow. "You don't want me to read?"

A negative shake.

"But you still want me to tell a story?"

He nodded, moving his other hand up to rest on his chest, probably signifying that it was sore from all the coughing.

"Okay, well... what do you want me to tell you about? Anything?"

Another nod, and she decided that maybe he was closing his eyes behind his mask.

"Okay, hmm... well..." She moved her hand to push his mask down a little so she could feel his forehead. He was still warm, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before. "Did I ever tell you about my first boyfriend?" When she didn't get an answer, she decided he must not have the strength to move his head right now, because he was still rubbing at his chest. "No, I didn't? Well, it was my junior year of high school. You see, I was never very popular, and I didn't care about boys anyway. I focused on my schoolwork, yet I could never bring those grades in chemistry and trigonometry up..."

She heard him yawn, and she giggled a little. So he was tired. Maybe her story would put him to sleep then.

"Anyway, my friend who was already out of high school - her name's Tunde - took me to this party once. She didn't know that people were bringing drugs and alcohol, but they did, so I just stayed in this one corner by myself. I didn't want to do any of that. So then this boy came up and asked me to dance. I saw he wasn't taking any of the drugs or alcohol either, so I figured we had a lot in common. His name was Robert, but everybody called him Robby. Before I knew it, we were an official couple. I couldn't have been happier. We spent our after-school time studying together and on the weekends we went to the movie theater or the library. Sometimes we went to parties, or to the school dances. It was so funny - at one of the dances somebody spiked the punch so everybody else was walking around all drunk and I had to take Robby home 'cause he had some of the punch and we didn't know how much alcohol was in his system. It was hilarious."

Jason grunted, sounding like he was disgusted.

Melanie laughed a little, petting his forehead. "Yeah... it was an accident, but he still ended up getting sick the next day. I woke up the next morning and he was throwing up in my bathroom. It was sad, but at the same time it was kind of funny, like 'That's what you get!' He said if that was what it was like being drunk he wasn't ever going to touch alcohol for the rest of his life."

Jason looked up at her a little, as if asking hadn't she had any.

"Huh? Oh, no... I didn't drink any punch. I had water. So anyway..." She shook her head. "Even though Robby and I were so close, he was actually the reason I almost didn't finish high school."

* * *

Jason was listening intently to Melanie's tale, though he could almost feel himself nodding off at points. He had to roll his eyes at the boy in the story. If he drank the punch and could tell it didn't taste right, why did he keep drinking it then? People were such idiots, really.

But he was intrigued by the fact that the boy was the reason that Melanie nearly didn't finish school. How? Why? What had he done? He started to listen a little better and forced himself not to fall asleep.

"See, Robby and I made it all the way to our senior year - our last year of high school. So one night we were in my room, just studying away for our big history test the next day. And we'd been learning some stuff about Anne Boelyn, and, um... he said something like... if it was me instead of Anne Boelyn, he'd impersonate the king just to have me. I was a little creeped out so I said okay, thanks... and then he asked if I'd have sex with him. And you know what I did?"

Jason made a noise, looking up at her. He hoped she didn't say that she'd actually said yes to that boy. That would make her bad!

He heard her giggle a little, but it was a bitter kind of giggle. "I smacked him clean across the face, called him a pervert, and kicked him out of my house. And it was safe to say that we were no longer a couple, since he was calling me a stupid bitch for not letting him bag me. You know what happened the next day? I went to school, and found out he'd started going out with my other friend - just 'cause she had bigger boobs." She shrugged. "He also told everyone he had sex with me, so people started calling me a ho and a whore and a slut and a home-wrecking bitch, for some reason. I could probably think of a lot worse things that they called me... but yeah. I got really depressed and missed a lot of school 'cause I didn't wanna see him and I didn't feel like doing anything but lying around feeling sorry for myself. But I eventually got the courage to go back, and I graduated, so..." She shook her head. "He was my first and only boyfriend... but trust me, I don't miss him now. I did for a while but... I'm over it."

Jason felt fury building up inside him, even though he was sick and weak. He started thrashing, crazy mad about what he'd do to that kid. He was agitated now thinking about what he wanted to do to that boy. The guy had first tried to have sex with her, basically said he never wanted to see her again (breaking her heart in the process), and then got together with her friend because she had a trait that only disgusting pigs found appealing. Jason wanted to take his machete and stab that stupid asshole first in the heart, over and over until they were both completely covered in blood. Then he wanted to take the same weapon and drive it into his skull until he got tired, impaling the idiot's small brain and crushing the bone so that it could never be identified. Then he'd rip his head off his body without the aid of a knife, and he'd beat it against the wall until he felt that the jerk had had enough punishment. Then he'd kick the body aside, leaving it for some animal to find, and he'd bring the bastard's head to Melanie, and she would scream with tears in her eyes, thanking him for getting rid of one more bad person that had hurt her.

"Jason! Jason, calm down!" He felt Melanie's hands pressing against his chest and leg, trying to hold him down. "Jason, knock it off! You're going to hurt yourself! Please stop!"

He growled and then made a motion like he was writing. He wanted to tell her something but he couldn't talk.

"You want your notebook? Sure, sure, let me get it..." A few seconds later a pen was in one hand and his pad was in the other. "There, what did you want to tell me?"

He wrote it down and drew a little picture of him with his machete dripping with blood before displaying it to her. 'That asshole better hope I never get my hands on him or there WILL be hell. If I ever get to him I'll make him pay for hurting you.'

For a moment, Melanie was silent. He was almost worried that he'd upset her by saying that (or maybe it was the drawing...), so he put his notebook and pen down. Then he saw her lean down and she placed her arms around him very lightly, as if afraid she'd hurt him... or afraid he'd hurt her. "Jason, I... thank you so much. Nobody... nobody's ever cared about me like that before, to wanna go after somebody who broke up with me. You really _aren't_ as bad as Sam told me you were... I honestly expected worse. I mean, even though you scare me... I guess aside from the killing you're not _that_ scary." She returned to stroking his forehead with just her first three fingers. It felt good. "At least I know you'll take good care of me while I'm here."

Jason looked down at his notebook, then turned to a new page. (The drawing of him with his machete seeking Robby to wreak vengenace for Melanie had taken up most of the previous page.) 'And I know YOU'LL take good care of ME. Thank you for not running away.'

She interlaced the fingers of her other hand with his once he had let his pen drop to the floor. Her smile was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	13. Reciprocating Kindness

Oddly enough, Jason had gotten used to Melanie over the course of almost two weeks. He became accustomed to her near incessant chatter, every time they were together. If she didn't have any conversation of her own to start, she began to read aloud from a book. It didn't matter which book, she would just pick one up, open to the first page, and read it. He wasn't really sure who she was reading to, him or herself. Maybe both - she was probably just trying to fill the silence, as it didn't seem she liked the silence too much. It was kind of cute though, the way she would just ramble on or do anything to keep it from getting quiet. He did have some idea of why she disliked the silence. If it was quiet, she didn't know what other people were thinking and that scared her, especially when she was with him - she had no way of knowing if he was planning on killing her or not. The thought had never crossed his mind, but she assumed it did.

He fell asleep next to her every single night without fail, since the first night he'd slept in her room. His mother didn't mind that he did this, but she insisted on being there with him too. But it didn't seem like it bothered Melanie; sometimes he wondered if she could even see his mother because it didn't seem like it. She'd never said, "Is that your mother, Jason? Oh, she's even prettier in person!"

He waited until Melanie was asleep to actually retire himself. After all, what if she might be having trouble sleeping one night, like the first night she was here? If that happened she'd never get to sleep. She wouldn't wake him up, she wasn't the kind of person who interrupted someone else's sleep unless it was important. And if he wasn't awake to help her get back to sleep, she'd stay awake all night. That wasn't good for a person, to be up all night. She was already asleep when he'd gone to sleep last night, so he hadn't thought he'd have to worry.

But when he woke up, he didn't see Melanie in her bed. He immediately got worried, thinking maybe more bad people had arrived and taken her. But then this was replcaed with a different thought: maybe she left. She didn't like it here, so she had all the reason to leave. He didn't lock the doors since the first day, because he didn't see any reason to restrain Melanie. She was free to wander around the camp as she wished, but only if he came with her. The only place she couldn't go was his mother's room. Not because she wasn't allowed, but because she seemed almost afraid to go in.

Raged boiled up within him, and he stood up. Where the hell did she get off thinking she could just _leave_ like that? She was supposed to stay here unless he went with her! She'd probably gone home, and she'd tell everybody about what happened, and then more bad people would come and he'd have to kill them. She'd betrayed him... she didn't even say good-bye...

All the fury melted away, however, when he heard an almost shaking voice call from the adjacent bathroom: "_Jaaaaaaay-so-o-o-o-o-o-o-on_!" It was most definitely Melanie's voice, but she sounded weak. "I th-think I'm s-sick!"

He walked slowly into the bathroom, wanting to see just how sick she was - if she was indeed sick. He found her kneeling over the little hole that acted as a toilet. Her head rested on the edge, and saliva was dripping out of her mouth; an almost ghostly pale took the place of her normal skin color, and sweat beaded down her temples and the sides of her forehead. She coughed a few times, then her eyes widened and she leaned over the hole, making disgusting noises.

When he recognized the noises as her vomiting, he knew she needed to get back in bed and rest to recover. She was as sick as he'd been roughly a week ago, when she'd taken care of him. He remembered her soft, cool touch and how it had eased his pain, taking the edge off his fever and his coughing. Since she had taken such good care of him while he was ill, he should take care of her.

First he had to find out if she had a fever. He slipped off one of his gloves and laid it on the side of the sink. He knelt down next to her, and even though she was still being sick to her stomach, he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. Mostly he felt perspiration, but there was definitely a distinct fever as well.

He turned on the sink, letting the water run for a moment. It was rusty and brown at first, but it cleared up after it ran for about a minute. He checked it to make sure it was cold, and wet a rag under it. He held the rag to Melanie's forehead, wiping away the sweat and dabbing at her warm flesh to cool her down. He placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her back lightly, trying to ask if she felt alright to get back to bed now.

She coughed once more, then tried to look back at him a little. She reached up and took the cloth from him, wiping her lips off. She tried to push herself up. "Yeah... I think I can walk back but..." She leaned against him, her head falling between his shoulder and neck. "You're gonna have to... support me a little..."

He nodded, picking her up as carefully as he could (for he wasn't used to being gentle with people, as a killer and all) and slinging her arm around his shoulder. He propped her up and walked with her, though one might argue that he was actually carrying her thanks to her unwillingness to move. She was just slumped against him, coughing dryly and moaning every few seconds. She held tightly onto his hand, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath from that episode.

Jason unwrapped her arm from his shoulders and placed one hand on her back, forcing her to let go of his hand. He picked her up by the legs and set her down vey cautiously on the bed, a little afraid that he might hurt her. He'd never dealt with a sick person other than himself before, after all. He'd have to be very careful about helping her get better. She probably knew better than he did about these kinds of things; if she could tell him what to do to make her better, he would do it. Whatever it took to get her feeling like herself. He didn't like it when she wasn't talking almost nonstop; something felt missing.

He just looked at her for a moment, then picked up his notebook and pen. He wrote something in it before showing it to her and making sure she could see it.

'You helped make me better, so I'll help you be better. Don't worry. I'll take as good care of you as you did of me.'


	14. Ambiguously Fever Induced

Melanie wasn't sure what to make of it when she woke up sick. She had woken up at five-thirty in the morning with a clenching, cold, cramped sensation in her stomach. After about twenty seconds of lying there wondering what it could be, her mouth finally realized the taste of bile and she jumped up out of the bed, running to the bathroom. She'd only thrown up once (well, she'd only had one episode, during which she'd vomited twice), but she stayed there in case it happened again. She was shaking and cold, and she didn't feel like moving. She was amazed she hadn't woken Jason, who was sleeping just on the wall and who she swore was the lightest sleeper on the _planet_.

She stayed there for maybe half an hour, then she heard Jason getting up in the other room. She decided that when he saw she wasn't in the bed, he'd probably get mad and think she left. And she did need help getting back up again. So she called his name, drawing it out to show that she _really_ needed him to help her, and she told him she was sick. Once he came in, she couldn't help it and emptied the contents of her stomach again (why the _hell_ was there anything left, anyway?), getting sick right in front of him. Then he'd pressed something cold to her forehead after feeling for a fever, and when she looked back she saw it was a washcloth. She'd taken it to wipe off her mouth, and tried to stand up. He'd helped her back to her room and laid her down, and then, using his notebook, he'd told her that since she'd taken care of him last week, he was going to take care of her and that he was going to do the best he could to make her feel better.

She wondered if this was a dream. He was a murderer; was he really going to take care of her just because she'd taken care of him? But not feeling up to thinking in such a complicated way, she just reached over and took his hand, keeping her eyes open only halfway. "Can you... get a cold washcloth and put it on my forehead?"

He nodded, and went to do that. When he came back, he had a bowl of water too, which he placed on the stand beside the bed. He dipped the cloth into it, and she could see his hands shaking; was it really so cold that it made him uncomfortable? He may not have been the brightest crayon in the box, but at least he knew that the colder the water was, the better to keep a fever down. But he shouldn't have gotten it _that_ cold if it was freezing his hands just to touch it. He placed the cloth on her forehead, then cocked his head to the side, as if asking her how that was.

She smiled and reached up to poke his mask. "Yes, you did a good job with that. Thank you, Jason." She closed her eyes all the way and let her hand slide down to rest on his shoulder for just a second. "That's a good boy. You're doing great."

He just sat there staring at her for the next minute. Maybe he wanted to know what he should do next. It looked like that was what he was trying to ask her.

"Um... hmm..." She thought about what she should do if she was feeling this sick. "Do you have any crackers downstairs? In the kitchen?"

He nodded, standing up to his full height. He pointed out the door with his thumb, and she was sure a confused look rested under his mask.

"Yes, please go get some."

He shook his head, then brought his index finger up to where his mouth would probably be. He was reminding her that she'd just thrown up.

She nodded. "I know, Jason. Sometimes it's good to eat something like crackers after you've been sick. It helps see if you can keep food down. And if you can, you'll probably get better soon. Can you go get two or three for me?"

He took a few tentative steps toward the door, but then looked back at her, tilting his head a little. Was he worried about leaving her alone?

She smiled with what strength she had, and waved her hand. "I'll be fine, don't worry. You hurry back now, don't want you getting distracted."

When he got back, he had two crackers and had also brought her a glass of water. She had to laugh inwardly at the fact that he got her water; he obviously didn't know not to bring water to someone who'd just been physically ill to their stomach. It was apparent he'd been raising himself for the majority of however long he'd been here. Hadn't he ever drunk water after being sick to get the burn out of his throat and discovered all it did was make things worse?

She accepted the glass but placed it on the nightstand. "I'll drink it later," she assured him, taking the crackers. She put one on the bedside table beside the water and took small nibbles out of the other. "Thanks for taking care of me like this, Jason."

Clasping his hands behind his back and looking down at his feet, he shrugged in an almost shy manner. It looked like he was telling her it wasn't any big deal or anything.

"Aw, but it _is_ a big deal." She ate about half of the cracker, then put it on top of the other one. "I can remember my mother taking care of me when I was sick, but never anybody else. It's really sweet."

Jason shrugged again and scratched his head. She had the weirdest feeling that if he were a cartoon character, he would have been blushing, even if it was just a little bit. Well, that was what she got for watching too much _Spongebob_ in the mornings...

She made a noise, then yawned as quietly as she could. "You know what I'd really like you to do for me now?"

He was instantly attentive, blinking as if the only thing he could hear was her.

She really wanted to hear his voice. He wouldn't talk on a day-to-day basis, so maybe she could sort of trick him into it. "I've always really liked somebody to read me a story when I'm sick. I mean, think about it - when you're sick and you can't leave bed, there's not much you can do to keep your mind off it. And having somebody read to me has always been one of my favorite ways."

He nodded, then held up one finger and ducked down into the bookcase by the nightstand. When he came back up, he held a children's book. He proudly displayed it to her. _The Ugly Duckling_. He nodded happily, then opened up to the first page. As he turned the pages, he pointed to the pictures to make sure she knew what was going on. He would sometimes pantomime the emotions he thought were appropriate, such as smiling (dragging his finger across the bottom of his mask in a curved line) or crying (making a fist and turning it beneath the eye holes of his mask like he was wiping away tears). It was actually kind of cute to watch, because normally he wouldn't act this way, but she was sick and he was "reading" her a story.

Melanie smiled as she watched the pictures and Jason pointing to them, making sure she understood exactly what was going on in each scene of the book. As he "read" to her, she would sometimes adjust her blanket or rub her eyes, but she was paying attention. As she watched him, only one thought came to mind.

The old saying was right: Actions _did_ speak louder than words.


	15. Square One

In a few days Melanie felt better, and she was back to spending time with Jason and doing things around the house for him. She felt like a maid, what with everything she did. She cooked, and cleaned, and picked up after him if he left something in a place other than where it belonged. But then she remembered that he had never told her to do these things. She just did them automatically, like she wanted to. She didn't _really_ mind, but she liked to pretend that she did. She liked to say, "Oh, Jason, do I _always_ have to put this back where it belongs?" and shake her head at him as if she were so very disappointed. She was actually scared of becoming used to this life. If she didn't mind cleaning up after him and doing certain things for him, that would mean she was getting used to living with him. He was a killer, he'd killed her brother; while she wasn't unnaturally scared of him anymore, she still made it a point to tread carefully around him. If she said the wrong thing, she could be considered bad and then he'd have to kill her, no matter if he was fond of her company or not.

She woke up one morning to find him staring at her. He wasn't really hovering over her or anything, just sitting on his place at the wall. She could see one eye through his mask, and she could see it wa a hazel kind of color. It wasn't really brown, or green, but somewhere between that. That usually indicated the kind of eyes that changed color based on the weather or what the person was wearing or something, didn't it? And he was just... looking at her. It was clear that he was awake, but he made no move to get up and go anywhere, like downstairs or to his mother's room or anything. Was he waiting for her to wake up? ... Had he ever done that before? She couldn't remember.

Melanie pulled the covers off herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed, leaning over and allowing her hands to dangle between her knees. She just looked right back at him. "Jason? Something wrong?"

She saw him blink twice, then he shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. He then shook his head again, answering her question with a negative. He stood up, got his notebook and pen, and wrote something, then held it up for her to read. 'Sorry. I just like the way you look when you're asleep. Should I not have looked?'

She shook her head. "No, that's okay." She got up herself and stretched a little bit, yawning. "Soooo... hungry?"

Shake.

"Okay... yeah, me either. But I'm bored, so do you wanna talk or something?"

He shrugged, turning to a new page in his notebook. She had gotten used to his "language", so she knew that meant that if she wanted to talk, he was ready for a conversation.

"Okay, well... you never told me. You said you don't age the same as everyone else, and you probably still look like you're in your twenties. Why is that?"

He looked at her for a few seconds, and she was worried that she might have said something wrong. But then he began to write, and held up the page for her when he was done. 'When I was 11, I died here and then I was brought back to life.'

She blinked a few times, not quite sure what to make of that. She didn't know whether to believe him or not. After all, he was insane, and it was highly believable that an insane person might only _think_ they had died. But something in her heart and in the back of her mind was telling her to believe him. She wanted to think that he was telling her the truth. So she leaned forward in interest, crossing her ankles and pushing down on the bed for support. "So you're, like... a zombie?"

He shrugged and wrote, 'If that's what you call it when you're brought back from the dead.'

"How did you die?"

'I drowned. I can't swim.'

"Are you still afraid of the water?"

'I used to be, but I outgrew it as I got older. Can you swim, Melanie?'

She shrugged, kicking her legs back and forth as she uncrossed her ankles. "I never learned how, so I'm a little afraid of the water."

'Don't go falling into the lake, then. I'm not afraid of the water anymore, but that doesn't mean I like it.'

"You wouldn't save me?"

His shoulders shot up practically to his ears, and she had to think that maybe he was blushing under his mask. She wished he'd just show her his face already; she bet seeing him blush would be cute. 'Of course I would... that's not what I meant.'

She grinned. "Oh, I know. I'm just teasing, Jason. Care to tease me back?"

He tilted his head as he looked at her. She wanted to laugh, it was kind of adorable the way he did that whenever he was thinking. Then he wrote in his book, before holding it up for her. 'Um... you have big ears.'

She felt her face burning, and she knew that _she_ was blushing now. "I do not, Jason! Th-They're... not _that_ big, are they?" She was thinking maybe he _was_ a little serious, and her hands flew to her ears. "_Jason, you big meanie_!"

She looked over and his shoulders shook like he was laughing. He was laughing at her! "Oh, that's it! You're really askin' for it now!" She stood up, took the pillow from his bed and proceeded to beat the stuffing out of him with it. "Take this! And that!" She giggled, smacking him with it again. "Had enough yet?"

When she was done she fell to the floor, suddenly exhausted and still laughing. Was he humoring her by letting her basically have a pillow fight with him... and he didn't fight back? It was hard to be afraid of someone when you were beating the living daylights out of them with a pillow. "Oh, that was the most fun I've had in a while."

* * *

Jason wasn't quite sure what to think when Melanie picked up the pillow from the bed and just began to hit him with it. It was partially his fault because he'd laughed at her after giving her a good tease. Hey, she'd asked for it - literally. He just raised his arms to protect himself, and he was laughing silently as she continued to try and murder him with a pillow. She was laughing too, her face bright red while she brought the pillow down on his head and his sides over and over.

At last she stopped hitting him and she collapsed on the ground. At first he was worried she'd overdid it and tired herself out, but then he noticed she was still fighting off giggles. She was fine, she was just done with pillow-torturing him... for the moment, anyway. He got up, crawled over to her, and listened as she commented how much fun that was. He cocked his head to the side, picked the pillow up, and hit her once in the face. When he did, she struggled as he didn't pick it back up, pushing him and the pillow off. "Oh, that's it, Jason!" She got to her feet and took the pillow back. "Get ready for round two, 'cause this time I ain't showin' _any_ mercy!"

Just as she raised the pillow over her head, poised to pillow him all the way to hell, a noise came from outside. Her eyes widened and she dropped the pillow. She glanced down at him, looking a little frightened.

He just stared back at her, getting to his feet and giving her a look that was his way of saying, "Did you hear that?"

She nodded, and turned around. "Come on, let's see if we can tell what it was..."

He walked over to the window andlooked out. He allowed Melanie to come over as well and look. He saw a black van parked close to the cabin, and two people were getting out of it. He instantly felt anger explode inside of him. More idiots who'd come to trespass on his land. He'd have to kill them now... he would have to make sure Melanie stayed in here, since it seemed she was upset by his killing.

But Melanie wasn't even paying attention to him now. Her face lit up as she looked out the window, and then she reached over and shook his shoulder, a smile stretching across her face. "Jason! Jason, there are my parents!"

... Had he just heard her wrong, or did she say those morons getting out of that car were her _parents_?

**BWAHA CLIFFHANGER OMG I'M SO EVIL.**

**Just like Gin and Aizen from Bleach...**

**WELL. Drop me a line. ^^ I'm so excited, we're almost to 50 reviews! :D OMG Happy plz. ... Imagine what I'd be like if my stories ever got 100 reviews... I get excited when I see just one review in my inbox! Imagine 100... XD I'm lame... ^^**


	16. Everything Changes

Melanie felt ecstatic that her parents were here. They'd come to take her away from this place! She happily shook Jason's shoulder and squealed that her parents had arrived. She even jumped a little bit. It didn't matter that she and Jason had been getting along and were sort of comfortable around each other now. She was still afraid of him, because for the most part he was kind of unpredictable. After all, she hadn't thought that telling him about Robby would have gotten him going but it did. She didn't know what else might trigger a fit of anger - and if he got angry, there was no doubt that he would hurt her.

But when she looked over at Jason, he didn't look happy. Even with his mask, she could usually tell what his emotions were - vaguely, at least. And she could tell that whatever he was feeling, it was _not_ a positive emotion. "Jason?" She gently rapped the side of his mask with her knuckles. "Jason, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

He finally looked over at her and shook his head. He turned on his heel and headed for the dresser, where his machete lie. He picked it up and gripped it so hard that she could see his knuckles turning white. Why was he so mad? It was just her parents. She ran over to him and gripped his arm at the elbow with both hands, trying to hold him back. "Jason! Jason, stop it! That thing is sharp, don't you dare!" She took the moment he was confused to yank the machete out of his hand. "What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, huh?"

He looked at her, then flung her arm back, the one that was still holding onto his arm. He made a grab for his machete back, but she just held it out of his reach. He took her by the wrist and held, his fingers tightening. He cocked his head toward the window - he was indicating that he wanted to kill them.

"For God's sake, Jason, I knew _that_! And would you let go, you're hurting me! I thought you didn't want to hurt me!" She tried to get out of his hold but to no avail. "Look. They're _my_ parents. They're probably here to take me home, so just let me handle this, okay?"

He let go of her wrist, but shook his head, sitting down. She thought she heard him sigh, and it made her feel guilty. She placed his machete back on the dresser before sitting down beside him and putting a hand on his back. "Okay, Jason. Tell me what's the matter."

He picked up his notebook again and wrote something else, then held it up for her. 'You're not staying?'

She blinked a few times, then inclined her head as he had often done. "Jason, I..." She gave a short laugh, the only way she really knew how to express the fact that she kind of understood but didn't quite believe it. "You... You know I can't stay, right? I thought you understood that eventually I would have to... you know...go away."

'But why are you leaving? Don't you like it here?'

"Of course I do. It's a nice place, the scenery is good and... I have to say, you're not as bad as I imagined you. But I mean..." She stood up again. "I wanna go home. I don't wanna stay. It's a great place for a vacation, but I'm ready to go back home."

He looked down, the pen loose in his hand. He managed to write one more thing. 'Did I do something to not make you want to stay?'

"No... no, Jason. It's... It has nothing to do with _you_. I just... have to go home. To _my_ mom, _my_ dad. I mean, even though we've never been close... it's time I go. They're probably worried like crazy since Sam hasn't called them..." A quick flash of Sam's severed head burned through her mind, and she shook it away, barely suppressing a shiver. "Please let me go, Jason. Please. I want to go. It doesn't mean I don't like you, but... I just want to go home."

* * *

Jason listened to Melanie's explanation, feeling a dull thumping in the left side of his chest with every word she spoke. He couldn't say he really blamed her, and he understood her reasons for wanting to leave. But that didn't mean he was any less upset that she was going away now. She was the only person who had treated him even somewhat like another person, besides his mother, and now she was leaving him forever. How was that right? He didn't think she was bad but she certainly was making a bad _choice_ - at least in his opinion.

He just stared at her, wondering what to say to her. She was leaving... he should say something profound, shouldn't he? Something deep, and meaningful. Something that expressed all that he felt toward her, the feeling of being normal and the feeling of wanting to let her do whatever she wanted to... not wanting to drag her down into this hell that he was trapped in. He wanted to stay here, but that didn't mean _she_ should have to - _she_ didn't want to. He decided what the best thing was to tell her, and wrote it down.

'I'd like you to stay because I like the way I feel with you here. But I won't stop you from leaving. Just make sure they leave too. Good-bye.'

She took his notebook, and she just looked at it for the longest time. Her emerald eyes flickered over the words, and he could see by the motions and when she moved her lips that she was just reading it, seeming to repeat it in her head. At last, she nodded, handing him his notebook back. "Thank you for understanding." She reached over, and put her hand on top of his for a few precious seconds, then let go and stood up. "I don't... I'm not sure what I'm going to tell them yet. If I tell them I've been living with you, they'll freak out and organize a search party to kill you. I'm still afraid of you, but that doesn't mean I want you dead... I mean, you're still a human being..." She sighed, and then nodded. "I can tell them that after you killed Sam and Kris, you came after me but I took your weapon and killed you instead." She picked his machete back up. "Can I borrow this? I'll leave it right outside."

He shook his head, taking it away from her.

"That's taking it too far? Okay, fair enough. I'll just tell them I... tossed it in the lake."

He nodded. That was probably best, after all... for everyone to think he was dead. He held up a hand, looking down so he wouldn't have to see her leave.

"Okay, well... I'm leaving now. Um... take care, I guess." When he glanced up for just a second, he saw her looking at him with an almost sad expression in her eyes, though her smile betrayed that. "Bye, Jason."

And she walked out of his life forever. He could hear as she walked out the door, headed down the steps, probably not even saying good-bye to his mother. He listened as she pushed the door open, walked out, and closed it behind herself. He wasn't really sure how to feel. It happened so fast, yet it seemed to take her forever to leave.

And just like that, she was gone.

**Eh... kind of a cliffie, I dunno.**

**I just finished chapter 20... and BOY HOWDY was it fun to write. ^^ No spoilers though! XD**

**OMG HOLY FLYING FUDGE NUTTERS! We've reached 50 reviews! Epic milestone! *breaks out noisemakers and party hats***

**Oh yeah. By the way, this is probably the last update until after Christmas. I might update tomorrow on Christmas, but I'm not sure yet. I might be busy with my family and my boyfriend and such. ... Plus I promised I'd write 2 more chapters of my novel as a Christmas present for my mom... so yeah.**

**So in case I don't get to say it...**

**HAPPY FRIDAY THE 13TH CHRISTMAS, JASON FANS! Jason, say Merry Christmas to the folks!**

**Jason: ...**

**Me: He said it! *huggles* Come on, Jason! You need to help me with INSPIRATIONS! :D**

**Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and a Jason-ful New Year! ^^**


	17. Out of the Fire

Elated that she was finally free, Melanie managed to keep her composure as she walked out of Jason's room and down the stairs. The door was so close. She flung it open, and only then did she allow herself to go crazy with joy. She ran toward her parents, who were just a little farther than they'd looked from the window. "Mom! Dad! I'm here!"

She ran toward them and was caught in her mother's arms. "Mom! Mom, I missed you so much!"

As she just hugged her mother, the older of the two seemed surprised. "Mel! What the hell has been going on?" She pulled her daughter away and looked at her. "Mason, does she look like alright to you?"

"Fine." Her father reached over and stripped Melanie's jacket off. "It doesn't look she has any bruises, thank God."

"What happened out here?" Mrs. Fields began tying Melanie's hair up in a ponytail. "Where's Sam? And Kris?"

"Oh, it was so awful, Mom." Melanie decided to play up the sympathy card and do a little lying. She knew she should have called them to get her much earlier, but she was afraid Jason would find out and kill her. She'd been busy taking care of him and the house, and she was scared that if she focused attention on anything else and tried to get away, he would snap and make the decision that she was bad. "There - There was a killer here!"

Mrs. Fields's eyes widened in surprise, but she was dragging Melanie back to the van as she listened and talked. "A killer? I didn't think he was still around. He should have kicked the bucket already. He'd be in his fifties if he was still alive, which he shouldn't be. I heard a bunch of reports of him getting killed."

"He was here!" Melanie clung to her mother like a frightened child, hoping this would make them believe her story. If they didn't believe her she was in _such_ trouble. She'd probably get kicked out of the house, and she had nowhere else to go. "He killed Sam and Kris! I thought he was going to get me too. He came after me, he did. But just as he raised that giant machete over his head to bring it down on me, I jumped out of the way and attacked him from behind, grabbing the knife. I took it and I killed him and I threw the machete in the lake. I've been living on my own since the first night." She faked a sob for good measure, burying her face in her mother's shoulder.

"God!" Mrs. Fields put her arm around Melanie. "I told you we shouldn't have let them come up here, Mason! Sam thought he was a big shot, thought he could do anything and protect everyone. Some macho man he was... got himself killed... Kris, too..." She brought Melanie's face up so that their eyes met. "Why didn't you call us?"

"My phone fell in the lake when I was tossing the knife in. How did you know I was in trouble?"

"Sam said he'd call us on the first night, but he never did. We figured you guys were having a lot of fun and we didn't want to bother you. When he still didn't call after two weeks... oh God, Sammy..." She covered her mouth and started to cry. "I can't believe he's gone now. He was just learning how to ride his bike yesterday..."

"He learned to ride his bike seventeen years ago, Mary," Mr. Fields reminded her, pulling the two women toward the car. "But yeah... seems like yesterday... I'm sure gonna miss my boy... he was a good kid." He sighed. "Well, looks like we'll have to discuss this tomorrow. I want us all sleeping in the same room tonight, you hear? What with everything that's happened... don't think any of us are gonna get any sleep."

"You got that right," Mrs. Fields agreed. "Alright, Mel, honey. We're taking you home now. It's all okay." She put Melanie in the back and gave her a kiss on the head before closing the door. "At least one of my babies survived this."

Melanie buckled herself in and looked out the window at Jason's cabin as her father started the car. She could see Jason standing at the window, looking down at the van. She was surprised her parents didn't notice him, but they were busy talking about Sam and Kris. They had actually, for some insane reason, supported the two dating.

Melanie sighed, resting her head on the window. She was finally leaving Camp Crystal Lake.

She didn't even know if she was happy to get out of here or not. There was just something about this place...

* * *

Jason stared out the window as the woman he was sure was Melanie's mother helped her into the backseat of the car. He could see both her parents getting into the front, and he heard a roar as the car jarred to life. But they weren't moving yet. It looked like her parents were talking... and Melanie was just leaning against the window. It seemed like she was looking right into his eyes now. Could she see him too? He wanted to give her one last good-bye, but he suddenly didn't have the strength to raise his hand for her.

The car began to drive off, and he turned away from the window. He sighed and sat down on his bed. It was still warm from all the time she had slept in it.

He glanced over at the pictures on his mirror and remembered her saying she liked the way he looked as a child. But she wouldn't like the way he looked now... he knew that.

He also knew he shouldn't miss her. She hadn't liked it here in the first place, and she really hadn't liked _him_ either. It was wrong of him to want her here if she didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be here and she didn't want to be around him.

_**Don't be too hard on yourself, Jason darling, **_his mother told him, and he could feel her gentle words caress him like her touch once had. _**It wasn't you or this place that turned her away. She may be a feisty one, but she's a bit easily scared too. It was just too much for her. If perhaps you had just taken her and hadn't killed the bad people, maybe she wouldn't be scared. But that bad boy was her brother, so she needs a little time. She needs to accept that he was bad and that he had to die, and she needs to accept that he's gone.**_

_But she's never coming back, Mother. How can I help her accept all that if she's not here anymore?_

_**Well, she never said you couldn't visit her.**_

_But if I leave you'll be all by yourself. Won't you be lonely?_

_**I'll still be with you, I promise.**_

_Well... maybe sometime later. Not now._ Jason looked out the window again, and this time he found the van gone, along with Melanie and her parents. _Like you said, she needs time to accept things. She needs to get adjusted back to her life wherever her home is... how long do you think she'll need?_

_**Oh... a month, maybe. Two at most.**_

_So maybe I'll wait a month and two weeks. Should that be good, Mother?_

_**Yes, I think that should be fine. You know, Jason, people always leave. Girls, even good girls, come and go, but you just remember that Mommy will always be here for you.**_

He smiled behind his mask. _I know, Mother. Thank you so much for taking care of me and for loving me._

He looked out the window one more time, and put his gloved hand against the glass, feeling the cold of the morning seep through it.

_Won't Melanie be surprised that I remember to visit her..._

**Look, I'm not dead! Woot, new chappie!**

**Kinda a cliffie, dunno...**

**Well, I have some kinda-disappointing news. I write far ahead of what I post - y'all know that, right? I write more so I have chapters to post every day. However, I haven't been writing this as much soooo... I'm only on chapter 20. I've finished it, but after chapter 20 expect updates to be less frequent. Might be every week instead of every day, I dunno. I'll let you know.**

**Merry belated Christmas! :D Jason and I celebrated by having dinner with my HUGE family. He cut up the turkey and ham with his machete. ^^ We had fun, especially when I played my new Date Warp game and he tried to virtual-kill all the hot guys on my screen, waving his knife around like "WHY AREN'T I IN YOUR THOUGHTS?" ... XD Then he decided he actually wanted to play the game with my cousin and they stole my computer and he helped her flirt with Alben... lol...**

**Well! Hope everyone had a good, horror-ified Christmas with Jason! ^^ (I'll let somebody else have him next year... but this year he's MY Christmas present... ^^)**


	18. Try to Forget

Melanie loved the feeling of lying on her own bed again. It was so familiar but so new, like an old friend she hadn't seen in years. She wrapped herself up in the sheets and lie on the pillow. It was the first thing she did when she got home. She had gotten out of the car, allowed her parents to lead her in, and she had run up to her room to lie down.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The scent of vanilla surrounded her, but for some reason it wasn't exactly what she expected.

She blinked a few times and sat up, trying to put her finger on what was odd about this. She looked around the room but it didn't look like _her_ room. She shook her head, and then realized what it was. She was so used to being in Jason's room, sleeping in his bed and seeing his toys and everything. And her room didn't have any toys. She inhaled from the sheets again and recognized why she hadn't expected vanilla. She was used to her sleeping area smelling like Jason, the crisp scent of the woods with a slight, lingering essence of blood from his kills. Why was she used to that?

She sighed and lie back down on her bed. "It'll pass," she assured herself in a quiet, affirming voice. "Just forget about him. He wasn't anything special anyway, just another killer like the ones you hear about on the news all the time... he's just another one of them. A coward hiding behind a mask, doesn't even have the balls to show his face..."

But she knew he wasn't just another killer. He was an unstoppable killing machine... and yet under all that was a real person. He felt pain, just like she did, only his was... so different. He didn't just feel anger or fury like every other man in the world. It was... the degree of misery in his anger that set him apart from everyone else. He missed his mother so he believed he was killing people to make her happy. That was the only way he could deal with the pain, was to believe that she wasn't really gone. When she'd been around him it almost seemed like he was a child trapped in an adult murderer's body.

But then she remembered some of the things he had done that were nothing like a child. And those things weren't the adult's body, it was his own personality and thoughts. He had thrown a holy fit when she asked about his childhood. He thought she'd run away while he was asleep when she'd left his room to go in the bathroom because she was sick. When her parents arrived to get her, he'd threatened to kill him. He had very nearly broken her wrist by holding it so hard when she tried to stop him.

That was all him. He wasn't a stupid child; he was smart and he was violent and he was above all dangerous. So why was she still thinking about him?

She felt tears spring to her eyes, and she buried her face in the pillow. She denied any longing to ever think about him again. He was the past - a bad part of the past. She always forgot the bad parts of her past, the things that had caused her pain and agony. He caused pain, so she was just going to forget him like she had forgotten everything else. Like she had forgotten having pneumonia when she was eight, like she had forgotten having braces for the entire school year when she was twelve, like she had forgotten falling off her bike and breaking a tooth when she was fourteen, like she had forgotten Robby breaking her heart...

"I don't care about Jason," she murmured, clutching her pillow with both hands and allowing more sobs to tear from her chest and form in her throat. "I don't care about him... I don't care..."

Even as she said it she was trying to figure out if it was the truth or not.

* * *

There was no denying that life in Camp Crystal Lake was certainly a lot less energetic without Melanie around. Jason had woke up the first day without her, and he had expected her to be downstairs making breakfast, as she usually was when he got up. But she wasn't. He had gone to look for her, then went into the bathroom thinking she might be sick again. But then he looked at the bed that had never been made and remembered that she had left.

And he'd let her go, just let her walk off like that.

It had now been a week since she left. He'd been keeping track on a calendar, very carefully so that he never missed a day. He now had five more weeks before he could go visit her. If he had decided he'd visit in a month he would have only had three more, but he thought that might be a little too soon. He needed to give her time to get used to the life she knew before she'd come to Camp Crystal Lake. She probably missed that life, and she didn't seem to care for the camp the way he did. He had to give her a little more time to settle back into her previous routine.

But he would get over it. How long had he been living on his own? At least fifty years. He didn't _need_ company to survive. The only person he really _needed_ around was his mother, and she was here.

He didn't _need_ Melanie. But that didn't mean he didn't miss her. He tried to deny it; he didn't require human companionship. He had been living on his own for a long time and he'd never needed it before.

But just because he didn't _need_ it, that didn't mean he wanted to live without it. Melanie was the only person who hadn't run away from him, even though she was afraid of him. That was called bravery. Maybe she was only trying to make him happy so he wouldn't kill her (but he didn't want to anyway), but that still took some courage.

_Mother, have you ever thought about me having children?_

_**Why Jason, that's a little sudden of a question.**_ She sounded surprised... caught off guard. _**Why do you ask that now?**_

_No reason, really... I just remember that sometimes you would hug me and say that you couldn't wait till I was all grown up and you would have grandchildren that looked just like me. Do you still want grandchildren?_

_**Well, I admit it's crossed my mind a few times. Maybe Melanie would be willing to give you children? Maybe if you showed her how committed you are.**_

_I don't know, Mother. Wouldn't that be moving a little fast? I haven't known her long..._

_**It doesn't take THAT long to form a relationship with a girl, Jason dear. Why, your father and I formed the relationship that spawned you in just a few weeks. We were married a few weeks after we met and then we had you. I don't think it would be moving incredibly fast.**_

_Maybe... I don't know yet. I'll have to think about it for a while. So you really want grandchildren?_

_**Well... it'd be nice.**_

Jason nodded, glancing out the window. He moved away to grab his machete and stomped down the stairs. A car full of more bad people had just arrived... it was time to kill for Mother.

_**That's my boy, Jason.**_


	19. Beautiful Nightmare

_She leaned in closer to him, a hand already on his mask. Her eyes drooped halfway shut before he held her closer to him. "Why... Why do you hide from me, Jason? Why won't you show me what's under your mask?"_

_He sighed and then reached up to grasp her wrist very lightly. He leaned down and placed what would be his lips (if he hadn't had the mask on) directly next to her ear and breathed. "Because... if I did, you would just run." His voice was deep but not overly so, masculine, and his tone sent shivers up her spine. She was finally hearing him speak..._

_She wriggled out of his grip and wrapped her arms around his neck. As she did, his arms found their way around her waist, pressing her body to his. "Jason, I'm not that shallow. I don't care about looks other than I don't just roll out of bed in the morning. I promise I wouldn't run. Don't my promises mean anything to you anymore?"_

"_Melanie..." The way he said her name chilled her to the very core, making her shudder in delight - especially since his voice was so close to her. "I am such a monster under this mask that I can't risk showing you. I know you would run. Everyone else has."_

_She gave him a pitying expression and brought her face so close to him that her forehead rested against the cold surface of his mask. "I'm not everyone else. You know how much I care about you. I wouldn't leave, no matter how awful you look. I'm not going to stand here and lie to you, say looks don't matter... but... appearances matter a lot less than some things about you." She kept one arm around his neck, but moved the other hand to his chest. "Just... show me. Please."_

_She could see him relenting beneath hsi harsh exterior, and one arm let go of her waist. This hand he cupped over his mask. "I will show you... but on one condition."_

_Her breath caught in her throat. He'd actually agreed? "A-Anything! What is it?"_

"_Do not scream." His hand lifted off his face, the mask coming with it._

_She held in her breath. This was it..._

Melanie felt a shaking all across her body, and she jolted awake. She stayed lying down for a moment, but then slowly sat up. She took a few deep breaths and noticed she was in a cold sweat. She looked around the room to find, in half relief and half disappointment, that it was not Jason's. She wasn't with Jason anymore.

She wiped her forehead and looked over at her clock. It was almost two-thirty in the afternoon. She sighed and got up. "I have to get used to living without him," she muttered, untying her ponytail and retying it in her mirror. "I don't care about him, after all... I don't ever want to see him again! I don't need him in my life. I'm never going back to Camp Crystal Lake. I'll never see him again and I don't want to."

_Then why are you dreaming about him?_ that annoying little voice in the back of her head asked. Melanie groaned as she realized the voice - it was her own thoughts. She was actually thinking about the fact that she might miss him.

"I don't miss him! He's dead to me!" She angrily swept her hand across her dresser, knocking a bottle of nail polish to the ground. Her eye twitched as it began to stain the carpet, permeating the air in her room with the sharp, irritating smell of acetone. "Fuck. That's perfect, that's _just_ what I need." She bent down and snatched up the bottle before grabbing some paper towels from the table and beginning to clean it up. "Congratulations, Jason. You've succeeded in ruining my life. Here's to you, crazy little bastard."

She picked up her phone and dialed her best friend, Tunde. "Hey Tunde?"

She could hear the screaming of a little girl in the background. "Mel! What's goin', girl? Heard you were up at Camp Blood. You run into ole Hockey Mask?"

"Matter of fact, I did. And... you know a psychologist, right?"

"Yeah, Nicholas."

"Nick the Prick, as I remember you referring to him."

"Hey! When he found out I was a single mom he broke it off with me. That's a little prickish, don't you think? Why you wanna know, anyway?"

"I just had a dream about the killer at Camp Crystal Lake... and I need help to figure out what it means. You think you can get me an appointment?"

"Well, your first one's free if I call him and tell him I'm sending you - girl, you so lucky you know me."

"Can you pull yourself out of The-World-Revolves-Around-Tunde Land for two seconds, please?"

"Okay, okay. Hold on a second - Ryan's crying, I think he needs his diaper changed again..."

"Look, could I just come over and we can talk about it?"

"Girl, you know that if you comin' over here you better be changin' some diapers or playin' some hide-and-go-scream."

Melanie rolled her eyes. "Look, I haven't seen you in two weeks and I miss you. Will watching _Dora the Explorer_ with Nichele count as my Godmother Deed of the Day?"

"Mmm... yeah, it should. But girl, I'm warnin' you, if you don't change any of Ryan's diapers next time you come over you ain't gonna be allowed over ever again."

"Heard that before, Tunde. It was an empty threat then, it's an empty threat now."

A little sigh from the other end. "Yeah, well... I missed you too. Come on over."

"I'm on my way then." She hung up, grabbed her red drawstring bag, and went downstairs, slinging it over her shoulder. "Hey Mom, Dad? I'm heading over to Tunde's for a little while. Should be back in a few hours."

Her parents were in the kitchen discussing plans for Sam's funeral. Her mother looked up and sighed a little before nodding. "Alright, just be careful. Call as soon as you get there and when you're on your way home."

"Got it." With that, Melanie walked out the door, closed it, and got into her own car. She put the key in the ignition, started the car, and sped off toward Tunde's house.

**No Jason this chapter, sorry! But hey, the next chapter will be ENTIRELY him. ^^**


	20. Friday the Bloody 13th

Jason crept toward the convertible car that held the two newest arrivals to Camp Crystal Lake. It was a dark-haired girl who wore a neon pink tube top and a blonde boy who wasn't wearing a shirt. The boy had his arm around the girl, talking to her, but the girl, who was in the driver's seat, had her arms crossed over her chest and was looking slightly the other way. So he wouldn't be able to kill her first... he'd have to get the boy.

He crept toward the car, crawling on his hands and knees so he wouldn't be seen from the mirrors. As he got closer, he could hear what the boy was saying.

"... Why you seem to never wanna have sex anymore, Kayla," he commented, trying to pull the girl against him.

"I've told you already, Cyrus!" She scooted away from him, so that not even their shoulders were touching. "I'm more interested in Corey now. I want to break up. I haven't been feeling anything for weeks."

"Oh yeah?" The boy, Cyrus, leaned down and took Kayla's face in his hand, their lips less than an inch apart. "Then how come you screamed after we were done last night?"

Kayla scoffed. "I was cheering 'cause it was over."

"Slut. You might as well just tell Corey you're a whore or he's never gonna go for you. He likes 'em dirty."

"You asshole!" She smacked him in the face. "Corey's better than you in a _lot_ of ways and I would know!"

"You fucking slept with him? You cheating bitch! If you don't stay with me and only me, I'll tell everybody what a whore you are!"

"You do and I'll kill you!"

Jason groaned and rejoiced that he had finally reached Cyrus's side of the car. He stood up to his full height, raised his machete, and in a matter of seconds had brought it down on the side of Cyrus's head. He grunted a little as he removed his machete, smirking at Kayla. _Beat you to it._

Naturally, Kayla began to scream. Her eyes widened as she looked at the dead body of her former almost-ex-boyfriend. "_Cyrus_!" She thrust the key into the ignition and the engine turned over. She slammed her foot on the gas and tried to drive away, still shrieking.

Jason glared and threw his machete after her. She saw it coming and she ducked, but the fact that it buried itself in the middle of the steering wheel was enough to make her let go. She screamed again as the front of the car smashed into a tree. She hadn't been going fast enough to eject herself from the car, but she still looked terrified. She twisted around and yelled when she saw Jason coming. She climbed out of the car and started to run.

By this time, however, Jason had caught up with her. Not bothering to retrieve his machete from the car, he came up behind her and wrapped both hands around her neck. He squeezed as hard as he could, but she was screaming too much for him to concentrate. She was giving him a headache.

She was shouting and crying. "You killed him! You monster, you killed him! I told him we shouldn't come here! You fucking monster!" She flailed around and her elbow hit him sharply in the stomach, as hard as she could.

Groaning as he momentarily let go of her to clutch his gut, he growled when he realized she was getting away. He hurried forward as fast as he could walk, _really_ wanting to kill her now.

Kayla had gotten back to the car by now, and she had her manicured hands wrapped around the handle of his machete. She was struggling to get it out, and she looked back. That was an obvious mistake, since she saw him coming and just got more freaked out. She wailed again, giving the knife another yank.

Reaching her, Jason reached out to grab her by the throat and finish choking her. He was going to kill her in an extra brutal fashion for trying to steal his machete.

Another sob tore from Kayla's chest as she jerked on the knife again. She looked back, saw Jason coming, and gave it one last pull. Just as he reached her, the machete came loose. He could see she hadn't been expecting that, but he didn't have a lot of time to contemplate. Since she _hadn't_ been expecting it to come free, it looked like she'd pulled too hard, and she lost her grip. It came flying toward Jason, lodging in his stomach.

Jason growled again, this time more lowly. He clawed wildly at the knife, angry at his own weapon for betraying him, before dropping to his knees and subsequently collapsing on the ground. Sure it hurt, but he'd definitely had worse (he'd had a hatchet buried in his head, for example), and he was only hoping to fool Kayla.

Speaking of Kayla, he could hear her breathing hard as she just looked down at him. She stepped back a little, finally deciding that he was dead. She let out a sigh of relief, then he heard her turn to go back to the car and mourn her boyfriend. "Cyrus, baby..."

Now was his chance. He reached over and grabbed her by the ankle, dragging her down. _Got you._

She screamed again. "No...!" She scratched feverishly at the ground, trying to make him let go. "Let go of me! Let go of me! Let go! You're supposed to be _dead_!" She kicked her legs fervently, bawling her eyes out.

Jason grunted as one of her feet rebounded off his mask, causing his head to go at an angle for a second and making his neck sore. That was the last straw. She had tried to get away, she'd stolen his machete, attacked him with it, and now she'd kicked him. He may have liked the chase of her trying to run, but enough was enough. The torture had to stop sometime, and he was getting tired of her. His grip on her ankle tightened, pulling her toward him.

She was still wailing, begging to be let go. She clawed and hit the ground, trying to free herself. "Monster! Let me go, let me go!"

He glared as he yanked her toward him and pulled her up off the ground. He got in a straddling pose on top of her, holding her legs together between his knees so she couldn't kick him again. He grasped her wrists and slammed them down into the dirt, holding her there. While he was in this position, she wouldn't be able to move or hit him; he needed her to stay still for just a few seconds before he killed her.

She screamed again. "What are you doing? Monster, let go of me!" She tried desperately to move, wiggling her body ever which way and pushing up on his hands in a futile attempt to free her wrists. "_Let go_!"

He brought her hands up and clasped both of her wrists in one hand, giving him one free hand. He reached up and took the bottom of his mask with his thumb and first finger. If she wanted a monster, he'd show her a monster.

He lifted his mask and pushed it back to rest on top of his head. He hissed at Kayla, pulling his machete out of his stomach where she embedded it earlier. He raised it above his head and swiftly brought it down.

The brunette screamed shrilly as the blade of his knife ripped through her chest. She kept screaming and he released her hands, deciding there wasn't much she could do now. When he did her hands flew to her chest, as if trying to magically heal herself. She pressed her palms to the fatal wound, like she was trying to stop the bleeding. But it wouldn't stop; he knew that. Any ordinary idiot knew that once your heart was stabbed you weren't going to live.

Remembering all she had done, Jason raised his knife again and tore into her throat to stop her screaming. He moved back a little and brought the blade down on her stomach too. He decided that one more strike should get rid of all the anger. Where should it be?

She was still trying to scream, a desperate and gurgling sound thanks to the blood in her mouth and throat. He was disgusted by that as much as he'd been by the screaming. He crawled up and leaned over her face. He reeled back and gave her one more gash, this time fully slicing down the entire length of her face in a diagonal.

Satisfied that she'd finally been silenced, Jason stood up, sliding his machete into his belt. Good. He stepped back to admire his work and decided, looking at both Cyrus and Kayla, that they needed to be displayed. That would keep more people from trespassing on this land. That would make his mother happy, because she was happy when they had the place all to themselves - though she didn't seem to mind Melanie, so Jason was happy about that.

He gave one last glance to the corpses as he turned thought _he_ was a monster? Idiots. _They_ were the real monsters and they were just too ignorant to notice it. Blind to their own imperfections, but had perfect vision when it came to seeing the shortcomings of others. Not to mention their own faults were the worst things; sex, drugs, alcohol, never mind _talking_ about how "good" it was. It was bad. He could swear nearly every person in the world would turn out that way now... the world itself was becoming bad.

Melanie. He let her enter his mind because he hadn't thought about her for maybe half an hour. Thinking about bad people made him mad, but somehow when he thought about her name the anger faded a little. She was good. She was the one person who had come to this place that he didn't really mind having here. He only minded everyone else because they were bad, but she wasn't.

He didn't think it was odd to think of her whenever he finished killing someone. The people he killed were bad; she was the opposite of bad. She was good. It was only natural to think about something good after you got rid of something bad.

He slid his mask back down to cover his face, and walked back into his cabin to go find some rope.

**HOT DAMN THAT WAS FUN TO WRITE. I don't know why, maybe it was temporarily putting myself into Jason's head and trying to see everything how he sees it. :D *is a happy dummy***

**Hey, does anybody know the show _Friday the 13th: the Series_? You know... the one that has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH JASON AND THEY JUST NAMED IT THAT TO DRAW PEOPLE IN?**

**... Yeah, that one. THAT SHOW LIED TO ME! There was a marathon during one of my vacation days and I thought I was gonna get lucky and see Jason murdering people! BUT NOOOOOOO. I was depress-ified after that...**

**But anyway, I've been thinking of doing a story called Friday the 13th: The REAL Series. It would involve an OC, and she'd be romantically involved with Jason (but not till a while in), but I was just wondering how many of you would be interested and would read it. ^^ I'm probably going to write and post it anyway, but I just want to know how much popularity it might receive.**

**Hope you enjoyed this, it's probably the last chapter for a while... a week, maybe two. Don't worry, it's not on hiatus or anything! I just need a little break from this story. You can forgive me for that, right? ^^**


End file.
